


Supernatural One Shots

by 1967KAZ2Y5



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Death, F/F, F/M, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-07 21:20:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 23,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4278327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1967KAZ2Y5/pseuds/1967KAZ2Y5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Series of one shots based off of Supernatural</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Straight as a Rainbow Slinkie

**Author's Note:**

> Bisexuality, swearing, alcohol, intense kissing,

This was not how I planned the night to end.

Finish the hunt, go to a bar, get drunk, and fight off the men trying to get into my pants. Not sitting in a shitty motel room playing truth or dare with the two deadliest hunters I know, who also happen to be drunk off their asses.

Typically, I would never play a game like this, but if playing truth or dare with two drunk idiots was the only way to keep them out of trouble, then so be it. 

“Sammy,” Dean slurred, his body draped over the chair, “truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Sam said, his words slightly more slurred than Dean’s.

“What’s the weirdest sexual act you have performed and or participated in?”

Sam hesitated, trying to remember. Eventually, he replied, “Nothing. I have done nothing sexually weird.”

“Nothing?” Dean asked, “Not even an orgy in college? God, you’re boring.”

“Not everyone performs strange sexual acts in their twenties, Dean,” Sam retaliated.

“Alright, you two,” I intervene. “Sam, ask the next question.”

“Okay. Y/n, truth or dare?”

“Dare, and make it interesting. We haven’t done anything crazy, might as well start now,” I say, already bored with the game. 

“Alright, I dare you to kiss Dean for seven seconds,” he counters, knowing my secret, but knew that I was comfortable doing this.

“I said make it interesting, Sam, not dull as hell.”

“Oh, really? You might wanna take that back when I give you the best seven seconds of your life,” Dean replies.

“Alright, cowboy. Show me what you’ve got,” I say, as I stand up and walk over to the chair he’s sitting on.

I straddle him and sit on Dean’s lap. Already I can feel his erection beginning to grow. My hand reaches around him and begins to play with the hairs at the back of his neck. I smash our lips together, tongues fighting for dominance. Eventually I win, and Dean lets my tongue explore his mouth. All the time my hands are pulling at his hair, and his hands are roaming across my back.

Seven seconds later, I get up from Dean’s lap and lay back on the bed. I smirk as I see his shocked face.

“Holy shit,” Dean mumbles, obviously shocked at how I kissed him.

Sam and I laugh at his shock. Somehow between bursts of laughter, Sam spits out, “C’mon, Y/n, your question.”

“Okay. Sam. truth or dare?” I ask as I lean my head against the palm of my hand.

“Truth.”

“Ooh, fun,” I say. “Weirdest thing you did in college?”

‘Weirdest thing I did in college?” he mutters, trying to remember. “Oh I got it. It was junior year, and somehow Jess had managed to get me to go to a party at a friend’s house. We had gone with one of my friends from my pre-law class. Jess had wanted to get me drunk. That was her sole purpose that night. So I got drunk and so did my friend. Jessica stayed sober for us, and drove us home. Once she was sure we were upstairs and safe, she left to go be the DD of the night. James and I went to my room, fell on the bed, and fell asleep. We woke up to Jess laughing at us. Somehow in the middle of the night, we started cuddling.”

Dean and I tried to hold in our laughter. But the image of Sam, the 6’4’’ 200 pounds of muscle, cuddling up to another man was absolutely hilarious.

As the night dragged on, the questions and dares got weirder. From daring Dean to run across the parking lot naked to asking me when I lost my virginity. 

“Alright, you guys. This is the last question of the night. After this I’m going to bed,” I say, exhausted at 3 in the morning.

“Y/n, truth or dare?” Dean asks me, sounding as tired as I felt.

“Truth,” I answer, too tired to do anything involving getting off the bed.

“What is your sexuality? Everytime we go out to a bar, you are right there beside me and I have never seen you go home with someone.” he asks, his voice less tired after asking me a question.

The question sends my heartbeat into a frenzy and my eyes fly wide open. Sam notices my change in behavior and sets his large hand on my leg for reassurance.

Sam knew. He was the only person in this entire world who knew my sexuality and hadn’t judged me for it. 

“You don’t have to answer if you aren’t comfortable with it,” Sam says in a voice so soft that I’m the only one that can hear it.

“No, it’s okay, Sammy. It’s about time I told him.”

“Dean, I’m as straight as a rainbow slinky.”

It takes him a moment for my words to register in his brain. “Wait, what?!?!” 

I slightly laugh at his outburst, still a little bit nervous about coming out.

“I’m bisexual, Dean.”

“So you’re attracted to both men and women?” he asks, just to be sure of what I’m saying.

“Yes I am. But I’m more attracted to women than men,” I say, relief flooding over me.

Before I could do anything, Dean had gotten off the chair and pulled me into a bone-crushing hug. I slowly wrapped my arms around him, settling my head on his chest.

“Thank you for telling me, Y/n. I am so proud of you,” Dean whispers into my ear.

I pull back from our embrace, tears streaming down my face. “Thank you, for accepting me as I am. You are now one of the two people who have accepted my sexuality.”

“Oh, darling. I always knew, but I wanted you to be ready to tell me,” Dean replies.

After our giant hug fest, I kissed both boys on the cheek, giving Dean one last hug. 

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“You’re welcome. And remember, I am always proud of you.”

I had found a family that had finally accepted me for who I was, and I am never letting them go.


	2. Let them stare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and the reader are going on a walk on the beach when someone confronts them about the scars on their bodies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger: torture, mentions of self harm

Amazing. That’s the only way to describe how I felt walking along the beach holding hands with my boyfriend, Sam. Dean was back at the motel room, still sore from the reaper had thrown him against the wall.

The three of us, Sam, his brother Dean, and I, had just finished a case where a rogue reaper was taking many lives each week. This had been going on for a month before we had caught wind of it. 

I laughed after Sam had told me the story of when him and Dean had burned a field down with fireworks they had gotten illegally. Feeling like someone, or something, was watching me, I turned my head to look at the sunbathers, hoping to catch the person’s eye. Instead, I found several people staring at me, or more specifically, my arms. It brought back memories I didn’t want to remember.

~~~~

Scream. All I could do was scream. 

Crowley had somehow had gotten a hold of me and now was using his best tools to torture me. I had been tortured for a week. 

“NOW TELL ME WHERE THEY ARE!”, Crowley roared at me, wanting the location of the Winchester brothers.

“Fuck off,” I managed to spit out between my teeth, trying to hold the pain in.

I knew the boys would come and get me. Out of all the words in the dictionary, I described them as loyal. Once they considered you family, which was no easy feat, as they rarely let anybody that close to them, they would come and get you, without any care in the world as to what could happen to them in the process.

“Now you don’t mean that, darling. We’re just having fun,” he said, lowering his voice to a more tolerable level.

After finishing with round five of slashing a knife across my arms, Crowley stabbed the blade into my thigh. The moment I screamed, the boys busted in the door, ready to kick ass if need be.

Turning around at the sudden noise, Crowley whipped out his ever-famous line, “Hello, boys.”  
As soon as Sam saw me, his eyes that a moment ago were filled with rage and hatred, were now filled with sadness. 

“Let y/n go, Crowley. She hasn’t done anything to you,” Sam growled, his voice filled with anger at the way I was tortured.

“Now why would I want to do that? I was just starting to have fun.”

The guys had brought the demon knife with them, the only object that could kill a demon, besides an angel blade.

In the time that Sam was talking to Crowley, Dean was slowly coming closer to us. He got close enough to put the serrated edge of the blade against Crowley’s jugular.

“Now why don’t you consider our offer. You let y/n go, and we kill you quickly.” 

Dean said this calmly. And it’s better if he’s yelling when he’s mad than if he’s calm and mad. Some of the worst kills I have seen is when Dean is calm. That’s not to say that Sam is not secretly terrifying, because he is. I have seen him stare down Lucifer without blinking. But that’s a story for another day.

As Dean threatened Crowley, Sam inched towards me, ready to get me out of this hellhole. He undid the chains around me and I put my arms around his neck, knowing that I would not be able to walk on my own. He picked me up bridal style, and carried me out to the Impala, laying me down in the back seat. He got in after me, careful to not upset any of the wounds across my body. I laid my head on his lap and tried not to succumb to the darkness.

~~~~~

Sam noticed that I had changed and asked if I was okay. Not wanting to ruin our perfect day, and soon got over the memories, I told him him that I was okay. 

“Alright,” Sam said warily, not quite believing me.

Soon enough, a woman came over to us, wearing nothing more than a skimpy two piece bikini. She stopped right in front of us, causing the abrupt end of our peaceful day at the beach.

“Do you honestly think it’s okay to walk around with those things on your arms, while wearing nothing? It is not okay to walk around with those self-made cuts. There are children here, and you are scaring them,” the woman said in a rush, clearly not wanting anything to do with the people with the scarred bodies.

 

Sam had not intervened between me and the woman, knowing that I was about to raise hell, and he did not want to get in the way.

“Three things. First of all: I am wearing a hell of lot more clothing than you are. Second: these scars are not self-inflicted. Some asshole cut me. And before you assume that it’s him,” pointing to Sam, “he knows that I would beat his ass into next week if he had ever hurt me. And lastly, fuck off, before I decide to get really mean.”

I said all of this as I got closer and closer to the woman. When I finished my soliloquy, she scoffed, as if I had just insulted her outfit, and not just called her out for being a bitch. She walked away, leaving Sam and I in peace.

“Are you okay,y/n? Do you want to go back to the hotel?”, Sam quietly asked me, knowing I never get that pissed off without a damn good reason.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks, Sam. Nah, I don’t wanna go back. I wanna finish our walk.”

“Alright, If you’re sure,” Sam said, his voice back at it’s normal octave.

“I’m sure. Let ‘em stare,” I replied, smiling up at him. 

And with that, we continued on our walk, oblivious to the stares, still in love as the day we first met.


	3. Good Night, Little Firefly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the reader wakes up from a nightmare, Castiel comforts them by watching Firefly together.

Running. That’s all you could do. Run. The werewolf that killed your whole family was finally after you. As the creature was slowly gaining on you, you tripped. The werewolf clawed at your chest, trying to reach your heart. When you died in the dream, you woke up screaming and thrashing in the bed that you shared with Castiel.

“Y/N!! Y/N, WAKE UP! You’re okay, y/n,” Cas yelled as he tried to rescue from the depths of your nightmare.

Your labored breathing slowed down as Cas held you in his arms. It was a nightmare you had from right after your family was eaten by werewolves. The nightmares had stopped but the scars remained when the creature attacked you. Sam and Dean had come to kill the beast. You stayed with them and they taught you how to hunt.

“Are you okay. y/n?”, Castiel softly asked.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just a nightmare, that’s all,” you whispered, not wanting to destroy the quiet that Cas had created by silencing your screams.

“Allright. Is there anything you’d like me to do?”

Before Cas had come along, there was only one thing that would help with your nightmares. And that was watching Firefly. You quoted that show all day long. 

“Would you watch Firefly with me, Cas?” 

“Of course I will, y/n,” he replied, wanting you to be able to fall asleep.

Setting up Netflix so that it played on the giant screen wasn’t too difficult. There was a couch big enough for the both of you to lay down on, but you decided that the best way to watch your favorite show was to watch it snuggled into Castiel’s side with his arm wrapped around you.

So that he could understand the references later on, you decided to start at the beginning. 

Halfway through the season, you had finally succumbed to sleep. Cas had noticed your slow, even breathing and turned off the show, not wanting to watch it without you.

“Good night, little firefly."


	4. I Don't Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and the Reader are researching when a song comes on the radio. The reader teaches Sam how to dance.

You and Sam were sitting in the library of the bunker. Both of you were reading up on lore for the most recent case. Men who had been cheating on their wives were being killed in a small town fifty miles south of Detroit.   
You had turned on the radio about an hour ago, not being able to handle the silence that echoed through the bunker. The dial was set at a rock station, because Dean was the last person to use it.  
The song that came on next was “Last NIght on Earth,” by Green Day. You didn’t like the country love songs that centered around dirt roads and pickup trucks.Sam had started to tap his foot along to the beat. 

“Sam, would you dance with me?”, you asked out of the blue.

“Y/n, you know I don’t know how to dance. I have two left feet when it comes to dancing.”, Sam replied in an exasperated tone.

“Well then I’ll teach you. Come on, get up.”, you said as you got up from your chair at the long table. Sam groaned in response.

“Put your hands on my hips.” you told Sam. He had put his hands high up on your waist, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. “No, not like that. Put your hands here,” you told him in a scolding tone of voice.Taking his hands in yours, you lowered his hands to your hips. When he smiled sheepishly at his feet, you smirked at his shyness. You then put your arms around his neck.

“Okay, so when i move forward, you move back, and vice versa. I’ll lead.”

Moving the two of you across the floor wasn’t too hard. Sam was apologizing every time he stepped on your feet. Replying that it was okay, but when the two of you went on Dancing with the stars, you can’t make any mistakes. He laughed at that.

The whole time we were dancing, we looked into each other’s eyes. It wasn’t a staredown, it was full of admiration and love. Both of us saw it, and neither of us mentioned it. You was deathly shy, unless you got to know someone, you barely talked. But somehow, Sam broke the shell that you had hidden myself the moment you met him. 

You laid your head on his chest, right above the anti-possession tattoo on the left of his chest. His heartbeat thudded in your ears, but it calmed you down. Sighing in content, you closed your eyes, swaying along to Green Day. 

Even after the song ended, neither of you bothered to make a move away. It was too comfortable lying in each other’s arms. Both of you were willing to stay there until the night ended. 

The two of you were in love. But it didn’t needed to be mentioned. “I love you’s” were said, but it was always known. Both knew the other’s feelings. Either way, Sam was happy right here, with you in his arms.


	5. You Shook Me All Night Long

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sam come home from a hunt and the reader surprises Dean with a homecoming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains smut

I had been hunting with Sam and Dean for years before the three of you had found the bunker. I had met the two brothers when dad went on a hunt with the late John Winchester. He left me with the two young boys. When John came back to the rundown motel without my father, I knew what had happened at once. He was killed by a Wendigo. Later on, John had told me that my father spent his last breaths asking John if he would take care of me, and to tell me that he loved me. 

I shipped the boys off to Shawnee, Oklahoma once I realized that they hadn’t been on a hunt by themselves in a long time. A rogue vamp was terrorizing the locals. I sent them with all the research I could dig up and went to the bathroom to set up a bubble bath and grab a book I had been meaning to read for a while. I was planning to take advantage of my alone time.  
______________________________________________________________________________

One week later

I heard my cell phone ringing from my bedroom. I currently was curled up on the couch in the living room reading Alice in Wonderland. Grumbling at my reading being disturbed, I got up and went to my room to grab the phone. I answered the ringing phone.

“Y/n? We’re on our way home right now. We should be home in about 6 hours,” I heard Sam say.

“Okay, thanks Sam. By the way, how’s Dean?” I asked, hoping to hear a positive answer.

Sam chuckled before answering my question.

“He’s fine. Taking a nap right now. I’m actually surprised he’s letting me drive.”

Laughing as I respond, I say, “Thanks Sam, see you when you guys get here. Hey, can you text me when you guys get close?”

“Yeah, sure,” Sam replied.

“Alright. Thanks, Sam.”

I grinned as I hung up the phone, already plotting Dean’s homecoming. 

I was smiling as I headed towards the bedroom that I shared with the older Winchester. Going through my dresser, I found the perfect thing to wear. I had bought a black lace bra and panties for a case. I hadn’t gotten to wear them since the case, wanting there to be a special occasion to wear them. And Dean’s homecoming certainly was special.

Seeing as the guys wouldn’t be home for a few hours, i made myself dinner. Which consisted of ramen noodle soup and crackers. Ah, fine dining at its best. 

Soon enough, I got a text from Sam saying that they were about a half hours drive from home. I started to get ready, first putting on the lacy undergarments. After getting dressed, I found Dean’s playlist from the first time we made love. It included songs by Bad Company and AC/DC. Trying to be casual, I laid across our bed while reading a book. I was hoping that I caught Dean by surprise. Tonight was going to be good.

Sam P/O/V

I pulled the Impala into the driveway of the bunker. Shutting the engine off I heard Dean mumbling in his sleep. I knew that I would never have a chance like this again, so I blared the horn of the car and laughed like a mad man when I saw Dean jump out of his skin. 

“I’m never letting you drive her again,” Dean mumbled as he got out of the back seat of the car, still mad about the abrupt end of his nap.

I chuckled in response, opening the bunker door while doing so. Dean came in after me, his boots echoing off the concrete floor.

“Honey, we’re home!”, Dean yelled as we descended the spiraling staircase.

“Dean, be quiet, she could be asleep,” I whisper yelled at him, knowing that a sleeping y/n was better than a tired, cranky, and homicidal y/n.

“Good point. I’m gonna go to bed.”

“Dude, you just took a three hour nap,” I replied, not understanding how one man can sleep so much.

“Yeah, so?”

“Nevermind,” I said. Dean smiled as he sauntered off to his and y/n shared room, knowing he had won the small skirmish between us. 

Your P/O/V

Nervous. That’s all I could feel as I heard Dean’s large biker boots clomp on the concrete floor. I saw the door swing open form the corner of my eye, as I still had my attention on the book in my hand.

“Woah. What are you doing?”, Dean questioned, obviously referencing to my clothing, or lack thereof.

But me being the smartass that I am, came back with, “ Reading a book.””

“What are you reading?” he asked, completely ignoring how I stretched out across the bed half-naked.

“Fight Club. I think you might like this one.”

“Hmm. 

“You want some rhythm and love, while you read?” he asked, quoting one of AC/DC’s songs.

“Nah. I want rock n roll instead,” relaying to him the next line in the song. 

I got up from the bed and sauntered over to him, cd remote in my hand. I turned on the radio, and heard “You shook me all night long” by AC/DC erupt from the speakers on the wall.

Dean leaned down to my neck and began to suck on it, knowing that there would be a mark there tomorrow morning. I moaned in response when he hit my sweet spot just below my ear. He placed his calloused hands on my hips while continuing to kiss me up and down my neck.

Pulling back so that he could speak, Dean growled in my ear, “You have no idea how long I have wanted to do that.”

Not straying from my sarcastic tones, I whispered into his ear, “So why’d you stop?”

Dean’s response was to lower me onto the bed as he hovered over me. I began to kiss him on the lips, wanting him to take his clothes off. My hands roamed across his chest and slowly roamed down to his belt buckle. I caressed his length and decided to tease him by moving my hands back up to his chest. I heard a deep moan coming from his throat, knowing he wanted me. 

Deciding that Dean should be just as unclothed as I was, my hands reached behind his neck and pulled his shirt off. I returned my hands to his chest as I continued to kiss him. Dean’s fingers roamed around my body, itching to explore every inch of bare skin. He took care of the rest of his bothersome clothes by taking off his pants, leaving him in only his boxers.

I wanted to get to the best part of the night. So I slid down on the bed to remove his boxers. Knowing it would get him excited, I took the elastic band of his boxers between my teeth and slid down even further. As I slid back up to my original position. I slid my fingertip against Dean’s hardened length. 

Not wanting to be the only one naked, Dean put one hand behind my back and unclasped my bra with an experienced hand. He threw the flimsy piece of cloth across the room. Getting vengeance for my teasing, He took my lace underwear between his teeth and slid down to remove the cloth from my body.

As our hands memorized every part of the other’s body, Dean slid his hand between my legs and separated them slightly, allowing him access. Dean slipped a finger inside me, teasing me to no end. He curled his fingers inside me, causing me to writhe under his touch, trying to get more friction. Adding another finger, he scissored me, stretching my insides. Switching his fingers for his length, he slid his hard cock into me. I gasped as he thrusted himself into me all at once, filling me to the core.

At first the thrusts matched the tempo and beat of the music, but as Dena and I both reached our climaxes, his thrusts were fast and deep, hitting my g-spot every time.

“Dean. I’m close. I’m so close,” I panted.

“I know baby, so am I. So am I,” Dean growled, his voice deep with lust and desire.

We reached our climax at the same time. White filled my vision as my walls clamped down around him as I felt his warm liquid filling me.

After the first time, we went at it five more times, each time making sure that the other was pleasuring the other.

We finally settled down for the night, me tightly snuggled into Dean’s chest, with his arms around me. Our heavy breathing slowed down as we lay there, looking into each other’s eyes.

This was how I wanted to spend my time. Wrapped in the warm embrace of Dean, ignoring the world together.


	6. Stiches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets hurt on a hunt and the reader has to stitch him up.

“Aggggg!,” Dean screamed as the Wendigo sliced through his skin.

I jumped up with my flamethrower and burned the son of a bitch. The thing screamed in agony from the fire dancing across its skin.

After I made sure that the monster was dead, I ran across the cave’s floor to check on Dean. Lightly slapping his face, I called out to him to make sure he was alive. When he groaned in pain, I let out a breath I hadn’t known I had been holding. 

“Come on, hon. Let’s get you stitched up,” I said while getting Dean up off the barren cave floor. 

Sticking him in the passenger seat of the Impala, I got into the driver’s seat and started the car. I grinned when I heard her growl in response. I loved this car just as much as Dean did. 

I stopped smiling when I realized I had to take care of both of the wounded Winchesters. Sam had been laid up from the last hunt, a demon possessing a teenage girl. He was still sore when Dean and I had found a new hunt. We left him at the bunker, certain that we could take care of it ourselves.

Driving off in the direction of our motel room, I looked over at Dean and wondered how he was holding up. A Wendigo attack is not something you just bounce back from. I knew that from experience.

Reaching the room, I grabbed Dean out of the car. Getting into the room was another issue. Holding Dean up with just his arm around my shoulder while I grabbed the motel key, was just something I could not do. After a brief moment of hesitation, I kicked the door down. 

Setting his large frame onto the small twin sized bed, I grabbed the first-aid kit and a bottle of whiskey off of the mini-bar. 

I shrugged Dean’s flannel and shirt off of him, wondering why he had to wear so many layers of clothes. Pouring a generous amount of alcohol onto his wounds, I started on the stitches. I flinched when he winced in pain, not wanting to put him through anymore hurt than I had to. 

Threading the needle in and out of his skin took close to an hour. But I eventually finished, pouring more cheap whiskey on his chest.

“All done, sweetheart. You can get up now,” I said to Dean, getting to my feet after an hour of sitting on the hard bed fixing Dean’s stomach.

Groaning as he sat up from his previous position on the bed, he said to me,

“Thanks, hon.”

“Welcome, babe,” I replied. Gently pushing him back onto the bed, I laid down next to him. Carefully snuggling up next to his side, as to not hurt him, I placed my hand over his heart, feeling his heart beat in his chest. 

“I love you,” I whispered, as I looked him in his deep green eyes.

“I love you too, y/n.”


	7. WIngs of an Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader finally is able to meet Castiel. Sam and Dean are surprsed at what the reader can see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER: HINTS AT CHILD ABUSE!! DON'T READ IF YOU'RE NOT COMFORTABLE.

“C’mon Y/n, it’ll be fine. Cas isn’t scary.”

“You don’t know that. What if he has a thing against blue-haired feminists covered in tattoos?” I ask, looking for any excuse that would get me out of meeting new people.

Dean laughed at my question. His back bent over, head thrown back laughing. I loved seeing him laugh. All the worry left his face and he just lived in the moment.

He stopped laughing, a trace of his laughing fit still left on his lips.

“Y/n, Cas is not going to kill you because you are a feminist with blue hair who’s covered in tattoos. Don’t worry about it, it will be fine.”

I growled at him, but finally let him guide me out of the bathroom. Setting his large hand on my lower back, Dean pushed me out of the cramped bathroom and into the living room with the angel and Sam. 

Looking at my red high top Converse , I stumble into the room, my blue hair hanging around my face like a curtain. 

Dean nudges my left side, signalling me to look up and not at my shoes.

“Cas, this is Y/n, Y/n L/n. Y/n, this is Castiel,” Dean says, playing the mediator.

I put out my hand in an effort so that he would shake my hand. He takes his hand in mine, squinting his eyes, as if unsure of what to make of this strange human custom.

“I have watched the earth for millennia, and never have I seen a human with blue hair. I like it,” Castiel remarks, his voice deep and gravely.

“Thank you,” I replied. Gesturing behind him, I said, “I like your wings. They’re really beautiful.”

The boys’ eyes widened, as did the angel’s, but he kept up with the conversation.

“Thank you. Is your blue hair natural?”

“Yeah, it is. It happened when I was a baby. I was in the same room as my father when a spell went wrong. The result was blue hair. If you don’t mind, I would love to draw your wings. I mean, if that’s okay with you,” I added quickly, unsure if he would be up to doing such a task.

“Of course. But only if you tell me more about your blue hair, if you’re up to it,” Cas replies, a twinkle in his eye.

As soon as Dean had recovered from his initial shock, he butted into the conversation.

“I’m sorry, but did you say that you can see his wings?” 

“Yeah. You guys can’t?” I ask, confused as to why this was such a big deal.

At that point, Cas decided to intervene into the confusion.

“I have a theory as to why she can see my wings. Much as humans have guardian angels, angels also have guardians. Sometimes that guardian can be an angel, archangel, even a human. The reason that you can see my wings is that you are my guardian, Y/n.”

After a moments of shock, my voice finally came back to me. 

“Me? Why me? I’ve never done anything remarkable. Yeah, I saved some people, but that’s my job. I drink, and I swear, and I’m covered in tattoos, and I’m a feminist. I hunt evil and cut it’s head off, that don’t make me special. So why in the world did God choose one little unimportant ant to protect a giant?”

“You really believe that, don’t you?” Castiel asked with his eyes squinted, voice as deep as the Grand Canyon.

“Of course I believe that. What proof do I have that says different?”

“You say that saving people is your job. It’s not. No-one asked you to do this. No-one asked you to put your life on the line for strangers who judge you because of your looks. You do this because you want to protect people who can’t do it themselves. Most would not take on such a daunting task such as saving humanity. What makes you special is your strength and resilience. What are those scars on your back from?” Castiel says, ending his rant with a question.

I shrink in on myself, trying to make it so that it was difficult to see the scars that weren’t covered by my tanktop. My eyes were downcast, afraid to meet the eyes of the angel.

“You know what they're from. Why are you asking anyway? That part of my life is over and done with,” I gritted between my teeth, a fire in my eyes not seen before. 

I had grown up with the Winchesters, and they knew my story. They took me in once they found out what my parents had done to me. But the best thing was they gave me no pity as others had done. They gave me a home and a family that truly loved me.

“What makes you remarkable,” he continues, “ is that you continue to keep fighting no matter how bad the situation is. What’s remarkable is that your pain has made you stronger. You are remarkable, Y/n. In every aspect of the word.”

The whole room was silent. The boys, and Bobby, had always supported me and loved me no matter what happened. I knew I was loved. And I knew that I was worth something. We showed it in actions, and occasionally words, but never like this. No one had told me I was worth something in so many words.

“How am I supposed to protect an angel? I could probably keep up with you in a fight, but other than that, I’m clueless as to what I’m supposed to do,” I asked, still unsure if I was the right person to protect an angel of the lord.

“I’m not sure Y/n. No angel has ever had a human guardian before. But I do know that I have complete faith in whatever you do.”

By this time I had started to tear up. The fact that someone so powerful as an angel believed that I can do such an amazing things, that was a whole new feeling. 

Not knowing what to do with myself, I ran up to Castiel and engulfed him in a hug. At that time tears started to spill out of my eyes. Cas slowly put his arms around me, still unaccustomed to human customs. 

I leaned up and whispered into his ear, “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked, confused as to why I was thanking him.

“For believing in me.”


	8. I'll Listen to Your Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hunt turned for the worse, which leaves the reader drinking and thinking about her past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER: MISSCARRIAGE, ALCOHOL, DEATH

I rarely cried. But when I did, I was a mess. Being a hunter had left me to build a thicker skin against the pain of the universe. Bottling up everything and drinking on those days that just wouldn’t end was how I dealt with the pain of hunting.

Dean, Sam, and I had just finished a case where a female ghost who had had a miscarriage, but had to give birth anyway. She died in childbirth. The ghost was killing pregnant women. But before we could kill the bitch, another woman was murdered. We burned the bones and left the town in the Impala’s dust.

Before we got to the bunker, I asked Dean to stop at an ABC store for me. While in the store, I grabbed two bottles of Jack Daniel’s Black Label whiskey. I wanted to get drunk and I wanted to do it right. After paying, I thanked the cashier, grabbed the bottles and got back into the Impala. 

“Took ya long enough,” Dean muttered as he started the engine.

“Shut up, Winchester,” I snapped, not ready to deal with his bullshit before I got drunk.

The two of us quieted down during the 10 minute ride to the bunker. As Dean pulled into the garage, I grabbed the bag full of whiskey and my duffle and made my way to my room in the large bunker. 

I opened the door and set my duffle down on the floor, setting the bottles on the small desk that resided against the wall. Deciding I wanted to be comfortable when I got drunk, I stepped out of my skinny jeans, work boots, and leather jacket, and changed into sweatpants and a black, thick-strapped tanktop.

Before settling onto the mattress set against the wall, I put my ipod onto the dock and began to play “Thunderstruck” by AC/DC. I opened the bottle, thought about getting a glass, but decided not to, figuring on just drinking from the bottle.

3 hours later

I had just finished the second bottle of whiskey when I heard a faint knocking at my door. 

“Yeah?” I asked tiredly, just wanting to find another whiskey bottle.

“Y/n? It’s me, Sam. Are you okay? You’ve been in there a long time,” Sam replied, worry making its way into his normally calm demeanor. 

“I’m fine Sam. I was just going to bed. Go away,” which was actually true, since I had run out of booze.

Instead of hearing the fading footsteps of heavy shoes, I heard the door open and saw Sam’s large form make his way under the doorframe. 

“Sam, I told you to go away,” I snapped, just wanting to fall asleep, waiting for the hangover that would undoubtedly appear. 

“I know, I just wanted to check on you. You normally don’t spend this much time in your room, and if you do, you normally come out to say goodnight. When you didn’t, I kinda assumed the worst.”

“I’m fine, Sam,” my patience wearing thin.

Sam was about to turn to head out the door, but before he left, he looked at me to make sure I was okay. He noticed my tear-streaked face, and hurriedly made his way over to my side.

Wrapping me in his arms, I threw my arms around his neck. Laying my head in the crook of his neck, he put his chin onto the top of my head. I had finally let my guard down, and cried. 

Sobs racked my body as Sam rubbed his hand against my back while his other hand cupped the back of my head. He kissed the top of my head and whispered soothing words into my ear. 

When I had finally calmed down enough, I pulled myself away from Sam, and got ready to tell the story that had haunted me from the day I was born.

“Are you ready to talk about it?,” Sam asked, his voice hushed, as if he spoke too loud I would crack.

“Yeah,” I replied, still getting used to the idea of someone knowing my life story. 

We laid down on my bed, and returned to our previous positions, except my head now laid on his chest, right above the anti-possession tattoo, exactly the same spot where my tattoo was brandished into my skin.

“I never knew my mother. She died while giving birth to me. My mother didn’t have any relatives that could take care of me. Except her parents, my grandparents. But, they never approved of my mother not having a father for her child. So I went into the foster system and became a ward of the state.”

“I did okay while I was there in the orphanage. Nobody wanted to adopt me. I mean, couples at that time wanted a blue-eyed, blonde bundle of joy. I had black hair and green eyes. Nobody wanted me. I was too much of a troublemaker to be a good candidate for adoption. Always getting in trouble. But I did good in school. Straight A’s. All throughout high school. The day I graduated, I went to the orphanage to pack my bags. I went to the head of the house and told them I was leaving. She gave me a hundred bucks and told me to get out. She was relieved she finally got rid of me.”

“I went on the road for two years, traveling around the country in a black 64’ Chevy Chevelle. I worked as a bartender in small towns till I had enough money to move on to the next town. When I was 20, I met you guys. I only agreed to your dad’s offer if he let me take my car. He agreed, and the rest is stuff you already know.”

The whole time I was talking, Sam laid there, rubbing my back, letting me know without words that he was there for me. 

“So when I saw those women, pregnant, I thought of my own mom. I never got to meet her. She missed out on all those things a mother was supposed to be there for. My prom, first date, first breakup, graduation. ”

Sam kissed the top of my head as I cried, remembering all those terrible memories. He brushed away the tears, waiting for me to go on.

“I just couldn’t handle it, Sam. I finally cracked. All those bad years filled with pain and loneliness finally caught up to me.”

He waited until my tears had subsided before he spoke gently.

“Y/n, if you ever want to talk, and I mean ever, I will drop everything and listen. I don’t care what I’m doing. If you want to talk, and I’m asleep, wake me up. I want you to talk to me,” Sam said, enunciating when he felt it needed to be so. 

“Sam, thank you for listening to me. No one’s ever really done that for me. Thank you.”

And that’s how we fell asleep, the lights on, my head on his chest with his chin on my head, wrapped in each other’s arms.


	9. Paint Me a Picture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader sells her artwork at a bar where her and the boys have a case. But Sam and Dean find out that she is an artist.

My favorite thing to do with my free time was draw and paint. I didn’t think I was very good, but nevertheless, I still sold my drawings to small cafes in the towns we had cases in to make money. The guys didn’t know, and I didn’t plan on telling them anytime soon.

After finding a case in Monticello, Utah, I grabbed my sketchbook and walked to the local bar near the motel. Sam and Dean stayed back at the motel to catch up on their “beauty sleep,” as Dean put it. 

Settling into a lone booth in the corner of the bar, I set to work on my latest drawing. It was a charcoal drawing of the Impala. Dean’s birthday was coming up and I wanted to get it done in time for him. 

“What can I get for ‘ya, dear?” a sweet voice asked me, startling me out of my trance.

“Uhh. I’ll have a glass of Jack Daniels Black Label, please. Thank you,” I said, still coming out of the trance the drawing had put me under.

“Coming right up,” the woman replied, leaving to get my drink.

Soon, a clear glass filled with amber liquid was set in front of me. I nodded my appreciation, and went back to my drawing.

After a period of sipping at my drink, I finished the charcoal image of the beautiful black Impala. Setting the canvas away from me so I could see the whole piece, I admired my handiwork. 

“Oh my goodness! That is amazing! Did you draw that?” The waitress had chosen that exact moment to come check up on me. 

“Uhh, yeah,” I stuttered, embarrassed for someone to see my work.

“Do you have any other drawings with you?” she asked, a hopeful look on her face.

“Yeah, they’re in my car. Let me go get a few,” I say, getting up and going out to the car.

My car was the love of my life. I needed no other. The big black 1964 Chevy Chevelle was my pride and joy.

Like the Impala, the Chevelle had a fake trunk with all my weapons and other hunting material inside. But in the regular trunk, I kept all my pencils, erasers, and paper. Plus some of the drawings I’ve done, just in case there is a buyer in a small town.

I carefully selected a few good pieces, which was Dean leaning against the Impala and Sam smiling. Closing the trunk of the car, I head back into the bar.

When I got inside, I saw that the waitress had brought out a large, angry looking man, who I could only assume could be the owner of the bar. 

“Here they are,” I say, setting the paintings gently on the table.

No one says anything for a while, and I start to get nervous. These three paintings were the best that I had ever done. I never thought I was very good, but my paintings made an honest living, and I was proud of that. 

“I’ll take both. How much do you want?” the gruff man asked.

“How about two hundred for both? A hundred a piece,” I reply, coming up with the most fair price.

“Sounds good to me. It’s a deal,” the man responds, holding his hand out for me to shake.

“Thank you,” I say, smiling and shaking his hand.

He breaks the embrace to go into the back room to pay me. He comes back with a thick envelope and hands it to me. I take the envelope, gather my things, thank the man again, head out the door and head back to the motel. 

The next night

“Hey, do you guys want to go to the bar,” Dean asked. 

“Sure, let me get dressed,” I replied, ready to celebrate after the case had wrapped up well. 

Slipping on skinny jeans, an AC/DC t shirt, and my leather jacket, I was ready to go drinking.

We walked to the pub since it was only a few blocks away. Dean didn’t even complain once. Stepping into the bar, I realized I made a huge mistake.

This was the same bar where I had sold my paintings. Even worse, the same waitress was working, and coming our way.

“Hey! You’re the girl with the paintings! You know, ever since we bought them, we have not stopped getting asked who painted them. Ya mind telling me your name hun’ so that we can put a plaque next to those two masterpieces you drew?”

The waitress was rambling. As she kept talking, the look on the boys’ faces grew more and more confused. I knew that there was going to be a long explanation that would come with the drinks tonight.

“Oh, and by the way, what can I get you for drinks?,” the waitress added, finishing her lecture.

Sam and Dean gave her their drink orders, and after a moment's hesitation, I added my own.

“Can I get a double shot of Jack Daniels Black Label? Thanks,” I said, knowing I was about to get thoroughly drunk tonight.

Dean directed Sam and I to a table in the corner of the bar, secluded from everything else. The waitress brought our drinks out and set them on the table, but not before giving her best smile and winking at Dean. Typical.

I downed my two shots before either of the boys could open their beer bottles. After a few moments of quiet, I start talking. 

“I started painting when I was in high school. I was depressed. My dad was a hunter, which meant that I was a hunter. Always moving around, never in the same place for more than two weeks. ”

The boys both nodded their understanding, looking at me with a look of intense concentration. I continued on, knowing that if I didn’t tell them now, I was never going to.

“My high school art teacher thought that it would be a good idea if I started to paint my feelings. He knew I was good. Everyone knew but me. So I started to paint, and draw, and color. And it helped. That man helped me get over my depression. I will never forget that.”

“But two months later, I had to move again. But I never stopped painting.”

“One day I was doodling in a small cafe. And this woman comes up to me and says that if I have any more drawing like that, she would happily buy them. So I sold her the art. And that’s how I make money on the road. By selling my art in cafe’s in small towns.” I finished, staring down at the empty shot glass in my hands.

“Then how come you come and hustle pool with us?” Dean questioned, confusion evident on his face.

“You can only hustle so much money off of a hard core biker in a shifty bar, Dean,” I answer, leaning back into the seat of the booth. 

“Do you mind showing us the paintings,” Sam asked, hoping for the best. 

“I don’t see why not, since you guys are the ones I painted,” I say, getting out of the booth.

I walk them over to the other side of the bar, where the pictures are lined up next to each other. Stopping a few feet in front of their portraits, I gesture with my hands up to the art.

“Here it is,” I say, unease filling me at the core.

The boys don’t say anything for the next few moments. The only movement they do is to see the paintings better. 

“Y/n...,” Sam starts, but I cut him off, afraid to hear the worst.

“If you guys really don’t want me to paint you anymore I won’t. I am sorry about that,” I ramble, looking at my feet, afraid that if I look at them, all I will see is contempt.

“No, that’s not what I was going to say at all. Y/n, this is the most beautiful picture I have ever seen. I can’t find words,” Sam says, adoration filling his deep hazel eyes. 

“I agree, this is absolutely incredible,” Dean chimes in, his deep gravelly voice filling my ears.

The boys come in for a hug, which I happily give them. 

“Thank you,” I whisper into their ears, my eyes watering, tears eventually spilling out.

“We love you, Y/n. Don’t ever doubt that,” Dean whispers, as he rubs my back in a calming manner.

Smiling ,as we walk out of the bar to the beautiful Impala, black as the night sky, I lean up on my toes and kiss each of their cheeks

I smile, knowing I have a family that loves me, who would give anything to protect me. And I would do the same for them. It’s a little bit broken, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.


	10. Lean On Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader is on her period and Castiel takes care of her.

“Uggghh,” I groaned as fresh wave of cramps rolled through my lower abdomen. I grabbed onto the edge of the counter to keep myself from falling onto the floor.

Normally my cramps aren’t this bad, but this week was unusually bad. 

Soon, I heard the sound of flapping wings, knowing immediately knowing who it is.

“Hey, Cas,” I said to my boyfriend Castiel, trying to talk in a normal tone of voice, so that he wouldn’t know I was in pain. 

“Y/n, are you alright?” Cas replied, a look of worry crossing his face once he saw my pained expression.

“I’m fine. It’s just some cramps,” I replied.

“No your not. Y/n,” Castiel sighed, exasperated with me trying to hide my pain.

“Come on, Y/n, you’re going to lay down.” Castiel walked over to me while saying this. He hooked his arm through mine and held my hand a signal to me that he wanted me to put my weight on him while walking.

I did as expected of me, only so that I didn’t start a fight. We walked to my room down the hallway from the bunker’s kitchen. Cas opened the door and led me to the bed. He lowered me down to the mattress before letting go of my hand. I shifted so that my legs lay on the bed and my head rested on the mountain of pillows I slept with every night.

Cas left the room as soon as I got settled and came back with a glass of water and set it on the table next to the bed.

“Is there anything I can get you, Y/n?” he asked, worry still etched across his face.

“Can you help me get dressed, Cas?” I softly asked, embarrassed to be relying on him for such a personal task.

“Of course I will, Y/n,” he whispered in just a soft a tone as I did, knowing it hurt me to be dependent on someone. Even someone I know and love.

Cas walked over to the large ornate dresser that stood in the corner of the room and got out a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, instinct guiding him in his choices.

Setting the clothes on the mattress, he helped me stand up. He held the hem of my shirt in his fingers, looking in my eyes for permission. I slightly nodded my head, letting him know I was ready for him to help me undress.   
Castiel lifts the shirt off my torso. I motion for him to take the bra off my bra and he obliges. Unhooking the clasp, the bra falls to the ground. I lift my arms so the he can put the tank top on. Cas kneels down and I put my hands on his shoulders, afraid that if I let go, I will fall. But I know he would never let me hit the ground. 

Unbuttoning and unzipping the skinny jeans I wore, Castiel let the jeans hit the ground. I stepped out of the pool of denim at my feet, my hands still on Cas’s shoulders. He held out the sweatpants and I stepped into the soft material. Cas slipped the pants up until the elastic band reached my hips, settling the cloth where I normally would.

My angel stood up, and upon seeing my tired face, picked me up bridal style and set me on the bed. I curled into myself when the cramps hit me again.

“Do you want me to get you anything else, Y/n,?” Cas questioned.

“There’s a bottle of Motrin in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. If you could bring me two pills out of that bottle, that would be fantastic,” I said as I closed my eyes, relaxing into the comforter that laid on the bed.

He soon came back with medicine in hand. Dropping the pills into the palm of my hand, I grabbed the water off the table and swallowed the pills. 

“Can you do one more thing for me, darling,” I asked him, not wanting to be a burden. 

“For you, Y/n, I would give you the world,” Castiel said smiling, and he meant every word.

I smiled at his words, knowing that if he could, my angel would give me the universe, and all the stars that are inside.

“What do you need, sweetheart?,” he asked, still smiling.

“There is a small towel in the bathroom. Would you please heat it in the microwave for about 3 minutes?” I ask.

He smiles in assurance that he complete the task at hand. He gets up off the bed and heads to the bathroom to get the towel. With towel in hand, he heads off to the kitchen to heat up the small piece of material.

A few minutes later I hear his soft footsteps approaching the bedroom door. Cas enters the room with a hot towel.

“I hope this is of adequate temperature,” Castiel said, handing the towel to you.

“It’s perfect. Thank you,” I reply, taking the towel in my hands.

I put the hot material against my lower abdomen and immediately feel relief from the ever constant pain. Turning so that I lay on my side, I closed my eyes, waiting for the sweet darkness of sleep to overtake my mind.

But instead, I feel the other side of the bed dip down, and a strong pair of arms, still wearing a trenchcoat, wrap around me. Knowing that Cas is lying next to me makes me relax even more.

“Thank you for taking care of me, Cas,” I whisper, not wanting to rip open the quiet atmosphere that we had created.

“You are welcome, Y/n. I enjoy taking care of you,” Castiel said in the same volume I used.

With my angel beside me, literally, I settled into his chest and fell off to sleep. But not before I heard the love of my life whisper,

“I love you, Y/n. Forever and always.”


	11. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader convinces Sam to give her the Impala. And she looks to Kevin for help translating the tablet to look for Dean and Castiel

“Sam, please,” I begged him, my eyes pleading.

“For the last time,Y/n, no. You can’t have the Impala,” Sam replied, already tired of this argument.

We had been going back and forth like this for hours. I, of course, had instigated the feud, and even more obviously, I wasn’t backing down.

“Y/n, why would you even want the car? It’s just a hunk of metal,” he questioned me, expecting a sane answer.

Before Sam could blink, I had flung the large blade I hid in my combat boots at him from across the room. The blade landed a centimeter away from his ear. Exactly where I aimed for. Once I had crossed the living room, I placed my hand on the hilt of my knife and looked him dead in the eyes.

“Sam WInchester. You of all people should know that the Impala is not just a hunk of metal. It is so much more than just a car. It’s home. I never had a home, Sam. But you have this. I’ve got the clothes on my back and the weapons in my duffel. It stands for family. But most importantly, it represents him. I can’t go on without him, Sam. It’s not possible. Sam, I’m going to find Dean. With or without you.” 

“Then you’re going to find him by yourself,” he retorted, still angry at my intrusion into his perfect life.

Finishing my rant, I look over to the side of the room, seeing movement out of the corner of my eye. Sam’s girlfriend had chosen that moment to make herself seen. Hopefully, she hadn’t seen me throw a knife at her boyfriend. But no such luck.

“WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!,” she screeched. This wasn’t going to end well.

Giving her my best bitch-face, which I learned from Sam, I turn back to look at the man in front of me.

“Sam, if you let me have the Impala, I will be out of your hair forever. I’ll leave, and you won’t hear from me again, not even to say hello.”

He hesitates, but eventually gives me to the keys to the car. 

“Thank you,” I say, meaning every word.

“Get out of our house,” he replies, a glare in his eyes that I never saw before. 

Walking backwards out of the house, I give Sam a mock salute, a smirk on my face.

I hop into Baby, a grin still on my face. Revving the engine, I sped out of the shitty suburb Sam had decided to call home.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day

Before making my way to the houseboat Kevin was staying at, I grab the ingredients for spaghetti, deciding to give Kevin a home cooked meal.

Once I get everything onto the boat, I call out to Kevin.

“Hey Kevin, I’m back,” I yell out, hoping he hears me. Once I hear the shuffling of feet, I smile, knowing he’s awake.

Seeing a sleepy young kid with disheveled hair just made my day better. 

“How ya feeling, Kev?,” I ask, knowing he’s probably tired and not doing well.

“Head still hurts, but it’s getting better,” he replies, voice husky with sleep. 

For some reason, still unknown to me, I had taken the young boy under my wing. I knew what it was like to have your world ripped from under your feet in a number of hours, with no one there to keep you sane. He was going through the same thing, and I was making sure he didn’t go through it alone.

“Want some aspirin?,” I ask.

He shakes his head, signifying that he doesn’t want the pills.

I get started on cooking the pasta, and soon enough it’s done. We start eating and all of a sudden it’s midnight. The food is finished and the dishes are washed.

“Kevin,” I start, knowing how hard this is going to be for him. “I need you to translate the rest of the tablet for me. Dean and Cas are missing. And I think the clues to where they are are on that rock.”

“Okay, I’ll do it,” Kevin replies, determination set in his eyes.

I was surprised. I knew how much translating the tablet hurt him. I didn’t want to ask him, but it was the only way I could find Dean.

Once he saw the surprised look on my face, he said, “Y/n, I know how much he means to you. You love him, he loves you. I want to do this.”

Tears in my eyes, I jump out of my chair and pull him in for a bear hug.

“Thank you,” I whisper into Kevin’s ear.

“Hey, isn’t that what’s family’s for?” he asked me, with a smile covering his face.

A few hours later, Kevin had his head hunched over the god rock that laid on the table in what resembled a kitchen. 

Days later, I had to leave for a hunt in Clinton, Missouri, a half hour’s drive, just in case Kevin needed me there fast.

The case was a simple salt and burn of a vengeful spirit of a prostitute who was mistreated in the eighties. A few hours of research, and I found out where she was buried. I got back to the boat that night. Even though it wasn’t much, it was still nice having something to come to after a hunt.

As I walk through the steel door that gives way to the kitchen, all I can see is the young man hunched over the slab of stone. A frown crosses my face, knowing without me here to remind him, he probably didn’t go to sleep.

“Kevin,” I whisper in my softest voice, “Come on honey, let’s go to bed.”

After a few moments of silence, I go and pick him up, cradling him in my arms. Despite my muscles screaming, I continue to walk with him in my arms, all the way back to his room. I settled him onto the bed, and start to undress him, knowing he hasn’t changed since I left. Pulling the covers over his small frame, I kiss his forehead, and leave to go make myself some tea.

I walked around the houseboat, sipping the hot tea, and contemplated the life before me. I knew I shouldn’t be taking as many hunts, if only for Kevin’s sake. The hunts were dangerous, but they always were. But now I was just getting reckless. I took my anger and stress out on the demons and monsters that came within reach. It was the only way I could handle living without Dean. Or Castiel. Cas was my best friend. I told him everything. Even though he didn’t understand human emotions very well, he was always willing to listen to my lengthy rants.

But Dean. Dean was another story. He was the love of my life. We were both in our senior year of high school when we met. My father had died years before, but I still went to school and hunted on my own. No one knew. Except him. He managed to crack the concrete walls I had forged around me. Walls put up for others protection. I fell in love, something I promised myself that I would never do. Somehow, he convinced his father to take me in. To this day, I have no idea how he did it. The only reason I agreed was because John let me stay in town until I graduated. Walking up to the podium, I looked out to the crowd, and saw little Sam standing next to Dean, who was clapping like an idjit with tears in his eyes. Looking back at my past, I knew he was the only thing that kept me going. And I did the same for him. 

A few hours later, I went to bed. The next morning, I made pancakes for the both of us. When we finished eating and the dishes were washed, he went back to the tablet.

“How are you doing on translating?” I ask, not really wanting to hear the answer.

“I’m so close to cracking the whole thing. Just a few more days and i’ll have the thing done,” Kevin replies in a hurried tone, his eyes never leaving the stone on the table.

“Would you care if I went out for a hunt?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“Of course I don’t care. Why would I?” he replies.

“Alright. I’ll be back in a few days. Be careful,” I say, as I kiss him on the temple, just as a mother would do for her child.

I packed my bags, threw them in the trunk of the Impala, and sped off towards Lincoln, Missouri.


	12. Home part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader comes back from a hunt and discovers two people in the houseboat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a day late, I was at Minn Con and didn't have time to post anything.

“Come on, you black-eyed bitch! We’ve been going at this for hours, I can go all night long. How long can you go?” I ask in a loud voice to the demon I have tied up in the chair in front of me.

“I told you. I’ve been telling you for the past five hours. I don’t know where he is!” she yelled back at me. This game was getting old.

Deciding that I had enough, I stabbed the demon in the heart. It was a quick kill, although cleaning up took longer that I wanted to. Burning a body is not as easy as it seems.

Months earlier

“Y/n, I translated the whole thing. It’s done,” Kevin told me, a tired frown framing his face. 

“Did you find anything?” I ask, trying to mask the hope that fill my voice, but fail miserably.

“No. There was not even a vague sentence that even hints at where they could be. I’m sorry, Y/n. I know how much this could have meant.”

Words failed me. I couldn’t make a noise. All hope of finding where my family could be was lost. I had placed all of my faith on a slab of rock written millenias ago. 

Seeing the hopeless look on my face, Kevin immediately walked over to me and pulled me into a giant bear hug. I rarely broke down, so when I did, I fell hard. I just let myself go. I cried onto Kevin’s shoulder. As I cried, he rubbed slow circles onto my back, exactly like Dean used to do. Which made me cry harder.

Present day

I head back to the car. The only thing that drags me down about this beautiful piece of work was the look Sam gave me as he gave me the keys. True to my word, I never contacted the younger Winchester. As much as it hurt me, I never called Sam.

I didn’t want to head back to the houseboat. Too many bad memories. I had done my best, but it wasn’t enough to save Kevin. Demons had taken him while I had been gone for a case in Washington. I didn’t want to be gone so far away from him, but he told me it would be fine. I came back, and he was gone. No note, no moved furniture, not even a scuff on the floor. I knew what had happened. And I blamed myself.

A few hours later, back at the houseboat

I came into the kitchen, totally unbeknownst to the scene in front of me.  
Dean WInchester was standing in my kitchen.

I looked up, and everything that was in my hands was now on the floor. I stared into his eyes, trying to figure out if this was a hallucination.

“Dean, are you real?” I whispered, walking closer to him, reaching out to touch his face.

“Yeah, hon, I’m real,” he whispered, the tears in his eyes betraying the smile on his lips.

Straightening up, I remembered a phrase the he and I invented to let the other know that it was the real person. 

“Wonderful weather this morning, isn’t it?” I ask, hoping he’ll say the next line.

“Yea, but I always bring an umbrella, just in case,” Dean replies, a look of love in his eyes the whole time.

“Oh my god! It’s really you,” I scream, jumping into his arms, tears in my eyes.

“Yea, darling, it’s me,” he whispers into my ear, rubbing slow circles onto my back while he holds me in his arms. 

“Dean, where’s Cas?” I ask him, in the gentlest voice possible.

“Cas didn’t make it out. I’m sorry, Y/n. I know how close you two were” he says in his gravelly voice.

After a few minutes like this, Dean pulls away from me, but is still holding onto me.

“Y/n, there’s someone I want you to meet. I don’t want you to freak out,” Dean says.

Nodding my head in acceptance, he leaves the room and comes back with another man behind him. 

“So this is the infamous Y/n? The same Y/n you kept ramblin’ on about for months at a time? My god Dean, how the hell did you not go crazy with a beautiful women waitin’ for you at home?” the man says, the Louisiana drawl evident in his voice.

“I did go crazy, I just hid it well,” he said, smiling at me the whole time.

“Benny Lafitte, this is Y/n. Y/n, this is Benny. He helped me get out.” Dean gestured to each of us. 

Benny put his hand out for me to shake, but I had a different idea. I pulled the large man in for a bear hug. Ever so slowly, he put his arms around me. 

Stepping on my tip toes, I whisper into his ear so softly that he is the only one that can hear me:

“Thank you for bringing him home.”

“You’re welcome, Y/n,” Benny whispers in my ear.

I pulled back and smiled at the man who brought my love home. But the moment is ruined when Dean coughs and pulls my attention back to him.

Looking to Benny before he speaks, I see a slight nod of their heads before Dean starts to speak again.

“Y/n, there’s another thing we need to tell you. Promise not to freak out?” 

I nod in compliance, not sure what he needs to tell me.

“I’m a vampire,” Benny says, looking at the floor.

Standing in shock for a few moments, I start to laugh. Like, head thrown back laughing. And seeing the confused looks on the two men’s faces made me laugh even more.

“That’s it?” I ask. “God, I thought you were going to tell me that you were dying.”

“You’re not upset or anything?” Benny asks, Dean still too shocked about the situation to contribute to the conversation.

“If Dean WInchester trusts you, then you must be one special son of a bitch. I trust you, Benny. How could I not? You brought him back home.”

This time, it was Benny who pulled me into a bear hug. He didn’t let me go for a full two minutes. 

“Thank you,” he mumbles. “You are the only person I’ve met who has not hated me for what I am.”

He lets me go with a teary-eyed smile on his face. Dean then brings the conversation to a topic I prayed that he would never go. Sam Winchester.

“Where’s Sam?” he asks, a glint in his eyes that I’d missed. 

Taking a few moments to collect myself for the explosion that was bound to happen, I told Dean where his brother was for the past year.

“Dean, Sam got out. He’s living out the apple-pie life in some shitty suburb in Texas. I’m sorry, Dean, I really am.”  
As soon it came, the light left his eyes. All hope left his face. I went over to him and held him in my arms. His arms slowly made their way around me. Pressing his head into my neck, he let go. Crying in my arms over his lost brother. Dean clutched onto my shirt like it was the only thing keeping him from drifting away. An idea popped into my head. It was a horrible idea. But it might work. Pulling my face away, but still holding onto him, I tell him my idea.

“How about we go see him, then? I think I remember where he lived.”

Not able to form words, he just nods his head. I pull him down to me again, and just hold him until he falls asleep in my arms.

After I had put Dean to bed, with Benny’s help, I sat up with the man and talked. About anything and everything. But it was mostly us talking about what happened while he was in Purgatory. I got him caught up on everything from the World Wars to technology. He was so fascinated with all of it. And I was happy to give him the information. By the time we had stopped talking, it was midnight. We had gone to separate rooms, and I made my way to Dean. 

He had sprawled himself across the bed, laying on his stomach, mouth wide open, and snoring. Just like usual. I undressed and put on shorts and one of Dean’s old band shirts.

When he was gone, I wore his t shirts, just so I could remember what he smelled like. Which was leather, gunpowder, and cheap whiskey. It was my favorite scent in the world. 

I knew that I eventually had to take Dean to see his brother. But I wasn’t sure if Dean would want to see him after he knew that Sam didn’t even try to look for him. But now wasn’t the time to overthink the entire existence of the universe. It was time for bed.

Crawling under the covers, I snuggled close to Dean. He automatically put his arms around me, pulling me closer. I put my head on his chest, listening to his heart beat. 

“I ain’t ever letting go,” Dean says, pressing a kiss to my temple. 

“Till the end of the line?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

The last words I hear before the sweet darkness of sleep surrounds me, wrapped in my lover’s arms, is:

“Till the end of the line.”


	13. Fight Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a hunt gone well, the reader has to deal with a pervert trying to get her home with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The guy hits her. touches her thigh. If you don't feel comfortable with that, don't read it.

You and Dean had been dating for a few years. You both enjoyed classic rock music, old muscle cars, and bad jokes. You met the brothers during a rugaru hunt. After that, you hunted with the boys. The only condition you had was that you got to keep your 1964 black Chevy Chevelle. They both agreed and had been hunting together ever since.

After you, Sam, and Dean had finished the spirit hunt, the three of you had gone back to your motel room. The hunt had gone well and you walked off with only a few bruises after fighting the ghost. 

Later that night, Dean decided the three of you should celebrate. Which Sam tried to fight tooth and nail. He wasn’t one to enjoy the dimly lit smoky room filled with rowdy drunks. But you enjoyed it. It reminded you of hanging out with your father before he got killed on a hunt. Dean had finally convinced the younger Winchester to come with you.  
\--------  
He died while hunting demons in a town not too far from New York City. Your dad hadn’t gotten the anti-possession tattoo, unlike you. You had gotten your tattoo the day you turned sixteen. You had begged him to get the tattoo to keep him safe. But he had claimed that he could take down any son of a bitch that came at him. He was possessed after five demons had come at him all at once. The demons spared you, if only to watch your grieve over your dead parent. 

You had a story similar to the two brothers. Your mother had died at the hands of a demon. Dad had an obsession over finding the thing that killed the love of his life. He eventually found it and took the son of a bitch to Hell. Your dad had taught you how to hunt from a young age.   
When you were old enough to pass off as eighteen, dear old dad had snuck you into a bar and taught you how to hustle pool. If a hunt had gone well, father and daughter went to a bar and played pool until the bar closed down. It was the only quality time that you got with your dad. The rest of the time you two were hunting when you weren’t in school.   
\-------

Dean had found a corner booth in the small bar a mile from the motel you were staying at. While the boys sat down, you had gone up to the bar to get drinks. As the bartender waited on you, a sleazy looking man had sidled up to you. 

“Hey sweetheart, what’s your name?”, he slurred.

Without so much as a sideways glance, you had replied with “My name is leave me the hell alone.”

The only thing you had on your mind was getting a glass of Jack Daniels and hanging out with the boys. 

His next words were so slurred you had barely heard them.

“Now that’s not very nice, now is it?” “Why don’t you come back to my place and I’ll show you a good time.”

As the second sentence passed his thin lips, he placed his hands on your upper thigh. Too high for your comfort.

“I would prefer it if you took your hand off of me and leave me the hell alone,” you gritted through your teeth. The bartender could not possibly be taking any more time.

“ Now don’t be like that.”

His grip tightened as you continued to refuse him. Sam and Dean were too in depth in their conversation to notice. When you refused him for the last time, without any regard to the crowd around him, slapped you across the face. The slap was heard over the entire bar. The room got quiet. Dean had sprung up from his seat, but before he could intervene, you had kneed, punched, and kicked the man in front of me. As the man fell down, Dean had come over to me.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you it was wrong to hit a woman?”, Dean stated in a calm tone, which was scarier than him actually yelling.

Putting his hand on the small of my back, he checked over my cheek, which the man scratched while I beat him up, leaving deep wounds.

“Are you okay, y/n?” , he softly asked.

“Yeah, I think so. Thanks.”, you replied.

“Sam, grab your stuff, let’s go!” Dean yelled across the room.

The three of you left the bar and headed back to the motel without any more incidents. You sat down on one of the beds as Sam dressed your wound.

“Thanks Sam.” you said.

“Your welcome. It’s no problem.” , he replied.

After that, you and Dean laid down to go to sleep. You were the little spoon as you snuggled closer to Dean and his warmth.

“I’m sorry,” he softly whispered into your ear.

“What do you mean?”, you questioned.

“I should have been paying more attention. I should have-”

You turned around to face him. Which meant that you were face to face with no space between you.

“Dean, listen to me. This is not your fault. That bastard was sick and perverted. No one is to blame but him.” 

He snaked an arm around your waist. After a few seconds, Dean pressed a long, slow, sweet kiss to you lips.

“I love you, y/n.”

“I love you too, Dean”


	14. On The Nightrain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader can't slep so they decide to play some music and the brothers find them.

Fuck.

I can’t sleep. 

For the third night in a row, my brain wouldn’t slow down enough for me to collapse into that sweet dark abyss called sleep for more than an hour.

Fine, if I can’t sleep, then I’ll just play rock n’ roll.  
\---  
I get out of bed, slipping on a pair of jean shorts and a Guns N’ Roses band tee. I didn’t plan on sleeping, why wear pajamas? With this much skin exposed, a lot of my tattoos were showing, most of which the boys haven’t seen. 

I walk down to the practice room that I refurbished. All of my guitars, a drum set, plus a few basses, were set up in that room. 

I chose a room far enough away from the main living area so that Sam and Dean couldn’t hear anything if I played while they slept. That way, they couldn’t find out that I was a secret musical genius.

I pick up my deep purple electric guitar and slide the strap across my body. Quickly tuning the instrument, I set up the cd where everything else played but the vocals and my guitar. 

As the drums began to pound, I placed my fingers on the fretboard. I waited a few seconds before starting to strum out the first chords of the song. I let the music take control before I started to sing the lyrics by heart. 

Loaded like a freight train  
Flyin’ like an aeroplane  
Feelin’ like a space brain   
One more time tonight

Psyching myself up, I get ready for the main part of the song.

Well I’m a west coast struttin’  
One bad mother  
Got a rattlesnake suitcase   
under my arm

Said i’m a mean machine  
Been drinkin’ gasoline  
And honey you can make my motor hum

I’ve got one chance left  
In a nine live cat  
I got a dog eat dog sly smile  
I got a Molotov cocktail  
With a match to go  
I smoke my cigarette with style  
And I can tell you honey   
You can make my money tonight

Wake up late  
Honey put on your clothes  
Take your credit card   
to the liquor store  
That’s one for you  
and two for me

I’ll be loaded like a freight train  
Flyin’ like an aeroplane  
Feelin’ like a space brain  
One more time tonight

I’m on the nightrain  
Bottoms up  
I’m on the nightrain  
Fill my cup  
I’m on the nightrain  
Ready to crash and burn

I let the music take control of my body. I sung louder and louder, forgetting the world around me. 

I never learn  
I’m on the nightrain  
I love that stuff  
I’m on the nightrain  
I can never get enough  
I’m on the nightrain  
Never to return-no

Loaded like a freight train  
Flyin' like an aeroplane  
Speedin' like a space brain  
One more time tonight  
I'm on the nightrain  
And I'm lookin' for some  
I'm on the nightrain  
So's I can leave this slum  
I'm on the nightrain  
And I'm ready to crash and burn  
Nightrain  
Bottoms up  
I'm on the nightrain  
Fill my cup  
I'm on the nightrain

I was so focused on the feel of the strings beneath my fingers and the noise that they made that I didn’t even notice that Sam and Dean had stepped into the doorway.

Whoa yeah  
I'm on the nightrain  
Love that stuff  
I'm on the nightrain  
An I can never get enough  
Ridin' the nightrain  
I guess I  
I guess, I guess, I guess  
I never learn

On the nightrain  
Float me home  
Ooh I'm on the nightrain  
Ridin' the nightrain  
Never to return  
Nightrain 

I finished the song, my fingers dancing across the frets like a mad man. I grinned, breathing heavily. A slow clap started up and I shot my head up, seeing Sam and Dean standing there grinning at me.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” I yell, shocked that they found me.

“Listening to a GNR concert, what else would we be doing at 2 a.m.?” Dean said while grinning, snarky at even the most ridiculous hours of the day.

I glance over at Sam, who looked like a kid whose mother had told him that they were going to an amusement park. 

“We didn’t know that you could play,” Sam said, still elated at his discovery.

“Or that well,” Dean adds. 

I shuffle my feet, and look down, hiding the rising blush on my face. 

“How did you guys find me?” I ask.

“Well,” Dean answered, “we both woke up to what we thought was you playing your music too loud. And when we found no one in your room, with the radio off, we followed the music, all the way back here.”

I was still looking at my feet, afraid to meet the boys’ eyes. After a few moments of silence, Dean intervened.

“So how did you learn to play like that? You don’t get that good overnight.”

I took off the guitar and put it back in its case, and shut off the cd player, knowing that I would have to give an explanation. I sat down in my bag chair and motioned for them to do the same.

“When I was born, my mother had dreamed of me becoming a musical prodigy. Had me listening to Beethoven and Mozart. My grandfather took custody of me when I was 5.”

“Wait,” Sam interrupted. “Why did he take custody?”

“Because my mom wasn’t there a lot. She was too busy playing concerts for the rich and famous. But I knew enough to call my grandpa to take care of me. Anyways, back to story time. On the way back from the courthouse, we got into his truck, and Guns N’ Roses ‘Rocket Queen’ came on the radio. I had never heard something so full of passion as that song. After that I was hooked. I wanted it all. AC/DC, Guns N’ Roses, Poison, Aerosmith, Zeppelin, Kansas. Anything rock n’ roll, I wanted to hear it. Then my grandpa taught me how to play guitar. Then I moved onto drums and the bass. He encouraged my music. I was playing at bars in high school. I was going to go across the country to play music after I graduated. But then Grandpa was killed by a demon, I got into the life, took my music and never looked back.”

The whole room settled into silence after I finished my story. We sat in silence until I walked over to the drumkit and sat down on the stool. 

“Do you ever miss it? Playing on stage, I mean?” Sam asks.

“Who said I ever stopped?” the smirk on my face giving away my secret. 

“Well then,” Dean interrupted, “I guess that means we get backstage passes to your next show then, huh?” a shit-eating grin on his face.

“I guess, so. Alright, enough chit chat. What do guys want to hear?” 

“You mentioned AC/DC, correct? Can I hear ‘Back In Black’? ,” Dean said, eager to hear my version of the song.

“I can do that. Sam, if you would be a dear, hit the forward button on the cd player and hit play, that would be wonderful.”

Sam does as asked, and I started to bang on the drums. They sit down on the couch and watch as I start to sing.

The iconic drumbeat starts up and after a few minutes, I start to sing. 

A grin pulls at my face as I see how much Sam and Dean are enjoying the song.

Maybe them finding out wasn’t such a bad thing after all, if I got to see them smile like this.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas go rummage saleing. Chaos ensues.

Dean POV

I loved falling asleep. Because the last thing I saw during the day was a messy head of black hair and ocean blue eyes. There’s a feeling, like we are the only two people in the world, right before we fall into the sweet abyss of sleep.

The only thing that made the night better was watching the stars together. 

Normally, we would lay a blanket and some pillows down on the grass outside the bunker door. Cas would lay his head on my chest, arms wrapped around each other, but still looking at the stars. 

More often than not, Sam found us asleep on the grass when he went out for his morning run, still in the same positions we fell asleep in, except we were tangled together and snores replaced the silence we lay in at night. 

\-----

On a morning that Cas and I had somehow managed to fall asleep inside, I made a decision that would shape our lives forever.

I was going to take Cas rummage saling. 

Wrapping my arms around the unconscious angel, I placed a kiss on Cas’ bare shoulder and let my head rest there. Cas, as the little spoon, subconsciously brought his hands up to meet mine. But he still wasn’t awake. I took my right arm and rubbed it up and down his hip. I feel him jolt under my hand, signifying that Cas is awake. 

“Mornin’, babe,” I say, breaking the silence. 

Cas grunts in response, and turns his body to face me. He locks his arms around my waist and buries his face in my chest, stopping any idea of getting out of bed this early in the morning. I run my hand through his mess of hair, keeping up with it even after the angel loosened his grip on me. I smile at him, loving how cuddly and grumpy he was in the morning.

“C’mon, hon. We got stuff to do today,” I coax, hoping for him to open his eyes. 

“Why, Dean? Can’t we just be content to lay in bed all day?” he asks, still not opening his eyes.

I chuckle. “I would love to lay in bed with you all day, babe. But we need to go couch shopping.”

“Why? Is the bunker not furnished comfortably for you, Dean? Although, I suppose most of the furniture is many decades old,” Cas rants as he opens his eyes.   
“The furniture isn’t for the bunker, hon. I want to put a couch outside. That way if fall asleep outside we don’t sleep on the ground. ”

“You know, Dean. For all the terrible ideas you have, this has been one of your best ideas,” Cas replies. 

“What are you talking about? Name one bad idea that i’ve had.”

“Dean, just yesterday you drank fish oil! And the day before that you drank jalapeno juice!”

“You need to get over stuff like that, hon. Sometimes I just do stupid things,” I reply, lazily defending myself.

“Yes, you do. Okay, Dean. Let’s go shopping.” 

Cas gets up at out of bed and walks to the bathroom, his boxers slung low on his hips, his hipbones exposed. Leaning my head against my hand, I admire the view in front of me.

“Do you like what you, babe?” Cas teases.

“Damn straight. Wait a minute, can’t use that line. Either way, I like looking at your ass, my dear,” 

“You have such a way with words, darling. Now, c’mon. Are you going to share a shower with me or not?” he asks, leaning against the doorway.

“I wouldn’t miss that for the world,” I reply, hopping out of bed.

\------

After our hour long shower, much to Sam’s annoyance, we got dressed and ate breakfast. Cas and I drove an hour away to a small town with a rummage sale weekend. I pulled Sam’s truck up to the curb. To my distaste, I knew there was no way in hell that a couch would sit on the Impala. 

As we walked across the street, I grabbed onto Cas’s hand, second nature by now. His shoulder nudged mine, then his eyes guided me to the disgusted looks from the neighbors. Sharing a look, we decided to mess them up even more. I broke my hold on his hand, then slipped my hand into the back pocket of my jeans that he loved to steal. Cas mirrored my actions, and pressed a sloppy kiss to my cheek. 

I blush and pull him impossibly closer as we walk up to the couple whose putting the sale up. 

“Hi there, my name is Dean and this is my boyfriend Cas,” I say, smiling at the couple.

Afraid to look bad in front of their neighbors, they played nice with us. 

“Yes, uhm, hello,” the wife waved, already looking uncomfortable. “May we help you with anything today?”

“Yes, actually. We recently moved in together and we need some new furniture for our apartment. Are you selling any couches?” Cas asks innocently.

They try not let this new information distort their appearance, but fail miserably. 

“Oh, uh, yes. We have one over there, next to the garage,” pointing out the couch,she replies a few seconds later, almost as if she had to remind herself that she had to talk to us. 

“Thank you,” I tell her, being as polite as possible while they are assholes.

As Cas and I walk towards the garage, I overhear the wife mutter ‘faggots’. I pull Cas impossibly closer, acting as much in love as we felt, which wasn’t hard. 

Next to the garage was a red couch with blue flowers all over it. It was fairly long, so that we were able to lay down on it and not be cramped. I let go of Cas’s hand to sit on the couch. He followed suit and sat down next to me. Draping my arm across his shoulder, I lean into the couch, getting more comfortable. 

“What do you think, babe? Is this going to be our new couch?” Cas asks me, looking at me with his ocean blue eyes, still tired from being up early.

“I don’t know hon,” I reply winking, letting him know I’m about to do something. “It’s good for sitting down. But what about laying down?”

And then I grab Cas by the waist, fling my legs on the couch, and lay Cas on me, wrapping my arms around him. Then once he’s resting against my chest, I give him a big sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“Y’know what babe, this is so much better. This is the couch,” Cas replies, still in shock of what I just did. 

At this point, the whole neighborhood is staring at Cas and I smothering each other with affection and kisses. 

I unnattach myself from Cas and we walk back over to the couple.

“We love the couch, how much do you want for it?” I ask, hoping that they won’t cheat us on a price because they hate us.

“For 50 dollars the couch is yours,” the wife tells us, placing her fake smile on her face again.

“You got yourself a deal,” I reply, and put my hand out for her to shake. And that is her breaking point. She will not shake my hand. 

Smiling at her obvious resentment,I pull out my wallet, hand her a 50 dollar bill, and walk away with Cas to go pick up the couch.

\----

Somehow, we managed to get the couch in the back of the truck. An hour later, We were back at the bunker. 

Sam, upon hearing the truck engine, came outside. Not to help of course, but to watch us struggle getting the couch out of the truck bed. But getting it out of the truck was easier than putting it in. 

“I hope to god you did not pay money for that monstrosity,” Sam says, gesturing to the couch that now stood next to the bunker door.

“Yeah, we did. Although I think the lady would have given it to us for free if it got us out of there quicker,” I reply.

“Oh god, what did you do?” he asks, exasperated at the thought of us freaking people out in public.

“We didn’t do anything wrong, Sam,” Cas intervenes. “They simply detested our love for one another so Dean and I may or may not have cuddled in public.”

At this news Sam bursts out laughing. It takes him a few minutes to collect himself, but when he does, he says, “Oh my god, I would have loved to see that.”

“Yeah, they didn’t seem too fond of us. The woman wouldn’t even shake Dean’s hand,” Cas added.

“God, some people are so close-minded,” Sam muttered. 

“That may be, but we got a brand new couch for 50 bucks,” I reply as I drape myself across the couch, laying Cas over me. 

Even though I was focused on the angel on my lap, I could see Sam smiling at us. 

“Well as long as you two lovebirds are okay out here by yourselves, I’m going to head inside to make dinner.”

Sam walks away, and a few seconds later we hear the metallic slam of the bunker door. 

Cas then turns around and wraps his arms around me, and I mirrored his actions, resting my hands on his lower back.

Night falls soon and the stars come out, lighting up the black sky like diamonds were thrown into the sky.

“I’m glad we did this, Dean. This is so much better than sleeping on the ground,” Cas says, his voice muffled by his face in my shirt.

“So am I, babe. So am I,” I reply.

And that’s how I fall asleep, as I always do, with a head of messy black hair and blue eyes the last thing I see.


	16. Cheap Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader is the daughter of Dean and Cas and she gets stood up on a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one EVER deserves to be stood up. You are a wonderful human being and don't deserve that kind of hurt.

I’m not quite sure why everyone thinks high school is the best part of their life. At least not for me. Screaming, bullying, cruel jokes, and stress. Not my idea of the time of my life. 

My misery was interrupted when one my fellow senior classmates came up to my locker. 

“Hey, Y/n. I was wondering if you wanted to go to dinner with me this Friday. We could go to that diner on North street,” Brian, one of the football players, asked me.

Normally, I would never accept such an offer from a popular student. It only ends up badly. But it was Brian, he was a nerd, just like me. There was no way he could hurt me.

“I would love to, Brian. How does six o’clock sound?”

“That sound great. I’ll meet you there,” he answers.

It didn’t hit me until I was driving halfway home that I had my first date to get ready for that Friday.

\------

Pulling my 1969 Boss Ford Mustang into the garage, I got out and pulled my bag out of the passenger seat.

I walk into the living room where I see both of my fathers’ cuddling on the couch. I quickly snapped a picture with my phone. I was never one to pass up the opportunity to have pictures of them being cute together. 

“Hey, kid. How’d school go?” Dad asks, whose real name is Dean.

“Good,” I reply as I flop down in the chair next to the couch they’re laying on. “Got an A on my AP US history test, finished my chem homework, and I got asked out to dinner on Friday,” adding on the last part, trying like hell to make it sound casual.

“Good job, sweetheart, I’m proud of -- WAIT WHAT!?! DID YOU JUST SAY YOU GOT ASKED OUT!?!?” Pop exclaimed, breaking free from Dad’s grip. Pop’s real name was Cas, short for Castiel. Dad was the one to give him the nickname in the first place. 

“Uhm, yes,” I reply. hoping they won’t freak out. 

Throwing Pop off of his lap, Dad ran to the chair, picked me up and spun me around the room.

“Hahaha, oh my goodness, sweetheart, I am so happy for you,” he says as he sets me down. 

“Thanks, Dad, I say as I struggle to push air back into my lungs after the bear hug I got from Dad.  
Pop then gets up off the floor from when Dad pushed him off the couch. He pulls me into a tight hug. Not as tight as Dad’s hug, but enough for me to breathe shallowly. 

“I’m happy for you sweetheart,” Pop mumbles into my hair. 

“Thanks, Pop,” I reply as I release my grip on him. “Hey, do know what a girl wears on a date? Because I am fucking clueless on clothes.” 

That comment got laughs out of both men. “I mean, I know I’m not terrible, but I get my fashion sense from Dad.”

That made Pop laugh even more, plus Uncle Sam too when he walked in the door. After they finished their laughing fit, Sam finally spoke up.

“Nice jeans and a tee shirt? A dress? Skirt? I could take you shopping.”

“But I don’t need new clothes, Sam. I can wear what I have.”

“Fine, but you have to show us each outfit. Deal?” he offers, holding his hand out.

Reluctantly, I agree. “Deal,” as I shake his hand.

“YES!” Sam exclaimed, jumping into the air in excitement. 

“Alright, alright,” I grumbled. “Let me find some clothes, then I’ll come show you guys.”

I walk to my bedroom, grumbling all the way there. I hated trying on clothes, but hopefully this would be fun, considering the audience.

Opting for comfort, I try on a pair of ripped skinny jeans, AC/DC band shirt, paired with my red high-top Converse.

I walk out of my room and head towards the living room where the whole family is waiting for me. As I reach the room, I duck my head down, shy to be modeling clothes.

“What do you think?” I ask, picking my head up.

Sam was the first to voice his opinion. “You look good, Y/N. But where are you going? Do you need to look formal?”

“So it’s okay for her to wear jeans and a band shirt, but not me?” Dad interrupts,not impressed with his brother.

“That’s because she’s prettier than you, Dean,” Sam sasses back, enjoying the argument. 

“I don’t know, Sam. I think Dean is very pretty,” Pop responds, smiling at Dad’s blushing reaction.

“No, Sam, it’s not formal. It’s at the diner in the middle of town,” I answer, stopping the argument, not wanting to try on clothes any longer than I have to.

“Alright, how about you try on some more, just to have more options,” Pop offers.

“Ok,” I reply as I walk back to my room.

\-------  
Several hours later, I have tried on almost every single thing in my closet. All except for one thing.

I walk out of my room, head down, still shy about showing off clothes to my family. Stepping into the living room, I hear the whole room gasp all at once. Looking up, I see three shocked faces.

“What do you guys think?” I ask, looking at my feet, twirling the hem in my fingers.

I had stepping into the room wearing a black dress with skulls printed on it. And the purple high-top Converse matched it well.

“Oh my god,” they all muttered with smile on their faces. “You look beautiful, Y/N,” Pop added. 

“So is this the dress?” I ask them.

“Yeah, hon, I think this is the dress,” Dad answers as he gets off the couch to hug me. 

Soon enough, I am surrounded by family squeezing the life out of me, but with love. 

Stepping away from them, I see Dad and Pop both have tears in their eyes, arms wrapped around each other.

“Our little girl is growin’ up, hon,” Dad says to Pop, both of whom are openly crying by this point.

“Who said I was leaving anytime soon?” I asked as I pulled them back in for a hug. “Dammit, you guys are making me cry.” 

Sam is bawling at our love for each other and wraps his long arms around our little group. 

So there we are, four hunters crying in the middle of the bunker because I got asked out on a date.

\-------

Dean’s POV

Friday comes sooner than any of us thought and that night I find myself watching our little girl lace up her shoes to get ready for her date. 

She gets off the couch and hugs each of us in turn. When she hugged me and Cas together, she mumbled ‘I love you guys’ to us and then walked out the door to the garage. 

When I hear the roar of her car fade away, I lean into my gorgeous husband and whisper “Want to have a date of our own?”

“I would absolutely love to, my dear,” Cas replies, who then takes me by the hand and leads me to our bedroom

And that’s how we ended up cuddling in bed watching the Lord of The Rings.

Your POV

I get to the diner five minutes before six o’clock. Being early never hurt anybody, except that I was soon to find out, it would hurt me.

Walking into the diner, I choose a booth next to the window, giving me a clear view of the sunset. A waitress soon came over to get my order. She was an older woman, like a grandmother who would take care of anyone that walked through that door. 

“Hey there, sweetheart, what can I get for you this fine evening?” she asks me, pen raised above the pad of paper in her hand, ready to take my order.

“Hi, I’ll just have a lemonade. I’m waiting for someone to meet me,” I answer, smiling at her kindness.

“Well I’ll get that right out to ya.”

I thanked her and she went to the kitchen to get my drink. Hearing the door jingle, I look up, hoping to see my date. But it was a couple of college kids, probably celebrating their finals being over. 

The waitress, had soon come back with my drink, smiling as she set the glass down. 

I wait ten minutes before texting Brian and asking him where he was, before I realize that I don’t have his phone number and texting him is useless.   
A half hour later, I sigh in defeat, knowing I’ve been tricked. I go up to the waitress and ask her if she can take my order now.

“Sure can, sweetheart. What’ll you have?” she asks, keeping up with her caring manner, even though we both know what happened tonight.

“I’ll have a bacon cheeseburger with onion rings, please,” I tell her. I really do take after my dad.

“Be back out with that in a while,” she says, leaving with a smile.

Pulling my copy of Fight Club out of the backpack I carried in with me, I settle in and start to read. The waitress brings out my burger and I give her my thanks. I find out her name is Mary, the kind of name a grandmother would have. She reminded me of Ellen, a woman I had met only a few times but had soon realized that she was as close as a mother that Dad and Sam ever had after their own mom. A kind lady with a tough love mentality. 

I finish my meal and pack up my bag. Pulling out my cell phone, I send a quick text off to Gabriel, my uncle and Pop’s brother. 

Hey, Gabe. Could you meet me at the diner on North street? Don’t want to ride home alone tonight.

A few seconds later my phone rings, signalling a text.

Sure thing kiddo. Be there in 1.

One minute later, just like he said, Gabriel walked through the door of the diner.

“Hey Gabe,” I call out, grabbing his attention. 

“Hey kiddo,” he replies. His eyes turn sad when he sees my dress. We both know I wouldn’t wear a dress out to eat if there wasn’t a reason behind it. “Ready to go home?”

“Yea, just give me a minute. I gotta go pay.”

I get up and pay for my meal, taking my stuff with me. As I start to hand over the money, I notice the rack of pies next to the register and my eyes fall on the pecan pie and the blueberry one. My mind immediately goes to Dad and Sam. 

“How much for the blueberry and pecan pies?” I ask, stopping in my tracks.

“15 bucks for the both of them, doll,” Mary replies.  
Adding 15 dollars more to the cash in my hand, I pass the money over to her. She takes the pies out of the case, placing them in a plastic bag. As she hands the bag over, I tell her, “Thanks,” hoping she gets the double meaning behind my words. Her eyes are softer after my words, and I know she understood. 

“You’re welcome, hon.”

I turn around and head out the door, looking behind me to see if Gabriel was following me.

Gabriel POV

Watching Y/N walk out to her car, I see her shoulders slump, tired of putting up the act of smiling. I turn to look at the waitress, the one who had taken care of Y/N. She looks at me suspiciously, like I was going to hurt the young girl she had met only an hour ago. But then she sees how I watched her, waiting until she got in the car to look away.

“You better take care of her,” the woman starts. “That girl needs to smile, especially after tonight. I want you to take make sure she gets home safe.”

“Ma’am, when she gets home, she’ll have so much love she won’t know what to do with,” I tell her, knowing that it’s true.

She finally smiles at me, and I take it as my cue to leave.

\---- 

We made it back to the bunker in record time. The way she sped as she listened to her casette tapes helped. I could see her prepare herself for the barrage of questions she knew they would ask. I take her hand in mine, letting her know I would be right there with her. 

She smiles before she gets out of the car. I follow her into the kitchen where the questions are already rolling out. But she walks past, probably into her room to shower. I sit down on the stool next to Cas. 

“What happened, Gabriel? She was fine when she left. Did it really go that bad?” Dean asks, confusion as to why his daughter was slumping around the house.

“I’ll let her explain. It ain’t my place. But be gentle with her, she’s had a rough night,” I reply, hoping they don’t push her too far.

Y/N comes back into the room wearing a pair of sweats, Sam’s socks, Cas’s shirt, and Dean’s flannel.Taking a slice of pie with her, she goes into the living room and plops herself onto the couch and sets up X Files on the TV. The whole group of us walk into the room after her, waiting to hear how the date went.

“So you tell them yet?” she asks the room, but I know she’s asking me.

Sitting down in the chair next to the couch, I tell her, “No, kiddo, I didn’t. Figured that would be up to you.”

“Tell us what?” Dean growls. He always gets aggressive if the topic has anything to do with his daughter getting hurt.

“Dad, it’s not a big deal.” 

“What’s not a big deal, sweetheart?” Castiel asks her. 

“He stood me up. But hey,” she adds, trying to make the mood less depressing, “At least I got pie.”

Dean smiles sadly. He knows that she is doing the exact same thing he does. Making a joke to deflect the pain. 

“Oh, hon. I’m sorry,” Cas says as he sits down and pulls her into a hug. 

“Don’t be Pop. It ain’t that big of a deal. Shit happens all the time. Besides, I finished my book tonight. Would he have let me read while we ate dinner? No.”

“Ugh, you are just like your parents. They’re always trying to get people not to worry about them,” Sam interrupts, still smiling though. He’s proud that she turned out just like his brother and his husband.

“How do you think I turned out so amazing?,” she quips, smirking at her quick response. “Now, c’mon, I wanna cuddle while I watch tv.”

Somehow, four grown men and a teenager all managed to fit on the large couch we had fit in the living room. Cas was sitting in Dean’s lap, while I sprawled across Sam, twirling his hair in my fingers. Y/n was sitting cross-legged in between us all stealing our body heat. 

I know that all four of us looked at that girl like she had put up the sun and stars herself. We were all proud of who that little girl grew up to be. The sassy, kind-hearted, witty, selfless little girl had turned out just like her parents. And we couldn’t be more proud.


	17. Family don't end in blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brothers find a young girl who turns out to know Bobby, but she also knows the boys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, the girl in the story is my OC.

I tiptoe silently through the abandoned barn holding my machete. My bow strung across my body, with the quiver full of arrows dipped in dead man’s blood on my back. The blood of three different vamps gleam off of the knife. There are still two more vamps left to go, which won’t be hard. 

As I approach the last two vampires, I hear the growl of an engine. The two parasites jump up and I curse the idiot who woke these two up. 

“A hunter. He smells good,” the man sneers, contempt clearly written across his face.

“First off, I am a woman. Just because someone has short hair does not automatically make them a man, you misogynistic bastard. And I taste even better. Come and get a bite,” I taunt, knowing fully well that I can easily take both of these two down.

Before either of them could blink, I had taken my bow off of my back, drawn an arrow, and let it loose into the vampire’s heart. While the poison was making its way into his heart, I quickly decapitated the vamp farthest away from me. I then turned and cut the head off the man with an arrow through his heart. 

Only then did I notice the two men carrying machetes in the doorway of the barn staring at me in awe.

I suppose I looked a little strange. I was covered in blood, and dark purple hair with a bow and arrow pointed at them.

“May I help you?” I politely ask, cute and intimidating all at once.

“Uh, yeah,” the taller of the two men answered me. “Who are you? And did you really just take down an entire nest by yourself?”

“The name’s Fox. And yes, I took down the nest by myself. Who’re you?” I ask, an arrow still aimed at them. 

“I’m Sam Winchester, and this is my brother Dean. We’re hunters, if you couldn’t tell,” the tall man answers.

I lower my bow in defeat, knowing these two men won’t hurt me, and because my past has finally caught up to me. 

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath. Speaking up, I say, “Well then, you two know a man named Bobby SInger?” I already know the answer, but I thought I’d ask anyway.

“Yea, we do,” Dean says, finally adding to the conversation, his voice deep and gruff. 

“Well, let’s go see the man,” I reply, walking past them and towards the door.

“Wait a minute, how do you know Bobby Singer?” Dean asks, confusion written across his face.

I turn around, looking Dean in the eye, a smirk on my face, and answer him.

“Bobby Singer is my grandfather.”

\-------

We walk out of the building and out to the two old classic cars sitting in the driveway. I make my way over to my baby, a 1977 Pontiac Trans Am. 

“Nice car. ‘67 Impala. She is gorgeous,” I say, admiring the old car.

“Thanks. You got good taste yourself. But how did you know the car was a female?,” Dean replies, still a little wary of the fiery teenager before him.

“It was pretty obvious. Anyone who takes that good care of their car has to have some kind of connection with her. And calling her a she just felt right. What’s her name?” I ask, knowing that a man who has a gender for the car, has got to have a name as well.

“Baby. What’s her name?,” he replies, pointing at my car, also surprised that I knew that he had a name for his car.

“Her name’s Queen,” I say as I open the car door. 

“Why that? You really like Queen that much you name a car after them?” Dean asks, thinking about the band.

“Nah, I hate Queen. Except for ‘Fat Bottomed Girls’, that’s a nice song,” I reply as I diss the band. “You ever play chess?” continuing as I get a nod from Sam. “Well then you know that the queen is the most powerful piece on the board. And this car is pretty damn powerful.”

“Alright,” Dean says, with a smirk. “You said something about going to see Bobby?”

“Yeah, I did. Do you want to follow me there, make sure I don’t get away?” I say, with an air of humor, a smirk hinting at the edge of my lips.

“Enough, you two,” Sam intervenes. “Dean will follow in the car, and I’ll ride with you, if that’s okay.”

“Fine with me. It’s nice to have company once and awhile.”

We get into our respectful cars, making our way back home, with gas stops and shared meals with the brothers. Although I’m not quite sure how I was going to explain bringing home two strays, strays that Gramps personally knows.

But Sam was nice to talk to. I enjoyed ranting with him about our favorite books and love for history. When I turned on the classic rock, he just smiled, like there was something familiar about the way I banged my hands against the steering wheel to the beat of the drums.

Ten hours later, we finally pull up in front of the house. I get out of the car and stretch, pulling my duffle out of the trunk. 

As we walk up the front steps and into the house, I smile to myself as I hear Gramps yell, “Fox! Is that you?”

“Yea it’s me. Brought home some friends, too,” I relay, in an equally loud voice.

“You, Fox Singer, brought home a friend?” he says, much quieter now that he’s in front of me.

My smartass comment dies on my lips as I see Gramps confused to our visitors.

“Sam? Dean? What the hell are you two doing here? Not that I don’t want ya here. How did you find Fox?”

“They interrupted my hunt,” I intrude, flopping myself onto the dusty couch. “Had they not rolled up, my bow wouldn't've been used. So thank you.”

“Speaking of them rolling up, did you talk to them?”

“Yep,” I say, as I pop the ‘p’.

“Boys,” Gramps asks, as he turns to the brothers. “How much did she talk?”

“I don’t know, 10 sentences, maybe?” Dean iterates, confused to the family dynamic between Gramps and I.

“Yeah, but we talked most of the way here,” Sam intrudes, giving away how much I truly talked.

“Haha, that’s my girl! Now go take a shower, you stink,” Gramp says with a smile.

I hop off the couch and head up to my bedroom, happy to be out of my bloodstained clothes, but not before my redhead girlfriend ran through the door.

“Mulder!” Dana yells, running up to me.

“Scully! I missed you,” I reply, as I pull her into a hug.

“And how are you Mr. Skinner?” she asks Gramps, pulling away from me.

“I’m doing good, thanks, Scully.”

“How was the hunt? Did you get hurt?” she asks as she examines me for any injuries.

I chuckle. “No, my dear. I didn’t get hurt.”

As we turn from our conversation, we see Sam and Dean looking terribly confused.

“Scully? Mulder? Skinner? Are you guys redoing the X-Files or what?” Dean asks, unsure of the situation at hand.

“Guys, this is my best friend, Dana. Dana, this is Sam and Dean,” I gesture to each other while introducing them.

“We started watching X-Files when we were little. Started calling each other Scully and Mulder,” Dana explains, seeing that the boys are still confused.

“Well, I’m going to take a shower. Have fun, Scully,” I say, disrupting the silence that had settled.

Dean POV

“BOBBY, WHAT THE HELL?!?! YOU HAVE A GRANDDAUGHTER?!?! YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE KIDS?!?!” 

“Well if you would calm down I would explain it to you, ya idjit,” the older man resonates, calmly, considering the circumstance.

Glaring at the young girl who smirks at Bobby’s nickname, I nod, knowing that fighting him would get me nowhere. Sam, Dana, and I head over to the same couch Fox had been laying on moments before.

“Fox is my adopted granddaughter,” he begins. “One day, 17 years ago, I woke up to crying on my front porch. Got up and saw a baby girl laying on the doorstep. No note, just a little girl in a blanket. I legally adopted her, and I’ve raised her ever since.”

“So how did she become a hunter? I know you wouldn’t have willingly told her that monsters are real,” Sam added, confused as to why such a young girl was working such a dangerous job.

“She was eight, she got curious. Found all my notes on a hunt. So I told her. Then she asked me something I never expected. She wanted to know if I helped people. Then she told me she wanted to help.”

We hear the shower turn off, and heavy footsteps walking across the floor. Bobby gets up to get dinner ready. I lean back on the couch, confused as hell. 

Soon enough, Fox walks down the stairs in a pair of shorts and a t shirt with a picture of Harry Callahan with the words ‘Do I feel lucky? Well do ya, punk?’ written on the front. 

I smile, then say to her, “You a fan of Dirty Harry?”

She looks up at me, then starts smiling brighter than a halogen lamp, as if she finally found somebody to share her love of Clint Eastwood with.

“Yea, I’m a fan of Dirty Harry. All of Eastwood’s movies actually”

“Even the monkey movies?” I ask suspiciously. No one has ever appreciated the monkey movies.

“Even the monkey movies,” Fox reiterates. “But Dirty Harry is my favorite.”

“Sammy, you’re fired. Fox is my new favorite,” I announce to him.

“What? Why?” Sam questions, clearly not impressed by his brother’s statement.

“Because she appreciates the monkey movies, Sammy. You don’t,” I reply, as if it was obvious.

“Enough yammering, you four! Dinner’s ready,” Bobby shouts from the kitchen.

We all walk into the kitchen and sat down at the small table. Bobby sets a pan of beans on the table and tells us to dig in.

After a few minutes, the room settles into a comfortable silence.

“So, Fox,” Sam asks, interrupting the quiet. “How did you get your name?”

“Well, when I was adopted, Gramps didn’t have anything for me to play with. So he gave me a fox pelt that had been laying around. It had soon become my favorite thing ever. So when Gramps picked a name, he chose Fox. But also because a fox is cunning, smart, and solitary. Plus Gramps favorite animal is a fox.”

“That’s sweet. I didn’t think the old man got soft in his old age,” I say, while Sam smiles in enjoyment.

“I may be old but I can still kick your ass, ya idjit,” Bobby, teases.

The room settles down into small conversations, anything and everything was a topic that night.

Half an hour in, Fox sets her fork down and looks me in the eye.

Fox POV

I set down my fork and look at Dean. I know that question has been burning in his head since Gramps told him my story. 

“Alright, out with it. I can take it,” I say.

“Out with what?” Dean asks, feigning confusion.

“You know what. I know that question has been burning a hole in your mind since you found out. So, go ahead and ask me,” a dare hidden behind my words.

“Okay then. Who the hell are your parents? I have been racking my brain for the last hour trying to figure out what hunter I know that had a child 17 years ago. No civilian knows this place is back here,” Dean rants, confusion fueling the fire.

“Who said my parents were hunters?” I ask, a signature smirk playing at my lips. “I don’t know who my mother is. Don’t care to know either. But I know my dad is hunter.”

“Wait a minute,” Sam interrupts . “How do you know your dad is a hunter?”

 

“Like you said, no civilian knows this place is out here, besides hunters, and because some of my natural talents include weapons, research, and hand-to-hand combat.. Those are things only a hunter would have an ingrained knowledge of. And it just came naturally to me. But even if I don’t know my father. I’m proud of him. Because it takes a hell of a man to do this job, to save people without care of their own well being.”

But the thing is, I did know who my father was. And his name was Dean Winchester.

\------

For the next few weeks, I had grown closer to both of the Winchesters. Dean and I bonded over cars, weapons, classic rock, and Clint Eastwood. We even went so far as to rewatch the monkey movies. Our time was filled with snark, sass, singing along, and movie references. 

But my time with Sam was different. It was more calmer and relaxed. Chess games, Chuck Palahniuk, and lore books. He was acting like a big brother to me, and I knew that he suspected that Dean was my father. But bless his heart, he never mentioned it. But I knew that he knew.

After a day of shooting my bow, I had come home at midnight from the junkyard, Gramps had sat me down after Sam and Dean went to bed. 

“How are you doing, Fox?” he asks, sincerity and concern written across his face.

I finally let loose. I cried. I had been avoiding how I was feeling for weeks and it had finally caught up to me. He took me in his arms and let me cry onto his chest. Grabbing onto his shirt like it was the only thing holding me there, I broke.

“It hurts. Everytime I look at him, I break, knowing that he has no fucking idea his flesh and blood is sitting right next to him. Sam knows, he hasn’t said anything, but he knows. And I can’t do it anymore. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” I rambled, my breathing getting faster as I spoke.

“Shh, shh. It’s okay, it’ll all be okay, hon. It’s all going to be okay,” he cooed, rubbing my back to calm my nerves and my breathing. 

Eventually I calm down enough to pull away.

“I’m gonna go take a shower, then I’m going to sleep,” I say as I rub the tears from my eyes.

“Okay, hon. I love you,” he relays, as he pulls me back in for one more bone crushing hug.

“I love you, too, Gramps.”

While I walk up the stairs to my room, I make a decision. I was going to tell Dean.

\------

I wake up the next morning with a battle plan in my head. Not sure if it was going to work, but I was sure as hell going to try.

I got out of bed, grumbling as I went. I am definitely not a morning person. Pulling on a a pair of jean shorts, a Guns N’ Roses tank, and my purple converse, I was ready to take on the day.

Walking downstairs, I find no one awake. Well, if no one’s here to talk to, I might as well play my guitar. With a smirk, I run back upstairs to grab my purple electric guitar, plugging it into the amp as I go. Going up to the attic, where the music room was located, I begin to set up. Lights, microphone, amp, speakers, and guitar were ready. 

“One, two. One, two,” I say as I test out the mic. Satisfied, I pick out the song in my head. “Alright, this one goes out to all of those who are still asleep.”

I start strumming out the intro to ‘Highway to Hell’. After a few minutes of intro, I start to sing. When I get to the chorus, I let loose. My voice gets louder, as does the music.

As the song finishes, I see a group of groggy, but elated, people clapping at me.

“Where in the world did you learn to play like that?” Dean asks, a look of awe covering his face.

I look down at my feet and mutter just loud enough for them to hear me, “I taught myself.”

Dean’s jaw drops in admiration. “You taught yourself how to play AC/DC?” he exclaims.

“Yeah. I just picked up an old acoustic and started playing. My mind does this thing where if I hear a song, I can play it,” I reply, looking up from my shoes. “Well as long as you’re all up, I’m going to make breakfast,” I continue as I slide the guitar off my body, turning off the amps and the speakers.

Making my way into the kitchen, I turn the radio to a rock station and set to work making breakfast. The rest of my little family make their way downstairs soon after I started singing and dancing along to Night Prowler. I was halfway through the song when I heard Dean laughing. 

“What, am I really that bad of a dancer?” I ask, as I turn around. 

“Not that bad, just as bad as him,” Sam retaliated as he pointed at Dean.

I flip him off, setting back to work on flipping the pancakes. Sam chuckles and sets the table. Setting the last pancake on a plate, I sit down and eat. It’s been a long time since I had pancakes. 

We finish eating, and the dishes get washed. Everyone sets out on their daily routine. Sam reads, Gramps researches, and Dean is still sitting at the table playing cards.

I take a deep breath and put my plan into action.

“Hey, you wanna take a walk in the yard? I want to show you something,” I suggested, hoping he agreed.

“Sure, it’s been awhile since I took a walk,” Dean added, as he got up and put the cards away.

We head out to the junkyard, me slightly guiding him until we stop in front of a 1967 Ford Galaxie. His eyes glazed over it in admiration. I saw the twinkle in his eye standing next to me. 

“Did you work on this?” he asks quietly, still looking over the car.

“Yeah. Took me a few weeks, but I got her running,” I affirmed, still whispering.  
After a few more moments of silence, I told him why I had brought him out here.

“Y’know, when I said I didn’t know my dad, I lied. I know exactly who he is. He is one of the best hunters out there to date. Dean, fuck, I didn’t think I’d get this far. Dean, you’re my father.”

He stood there, not saying a thing. His face didn’t show any emotion. Instead, he turned to me, and just stared, looking at me like I had told him I hated the monkey movies.

“Please say something. If you want to walk away, I totally understand” I whispered, my voice breaking as I rambled.

“Why did you keep it from me for so long?” Dean finally asked, giving me a sliver of hope that he didn’t hate me.

Sighing, I begin to explain. “I knew what was going on. Hell, the devil, Sam’s soul, Cas, Leviathans, Purgatory, the angels, the Mark. It’s hard to deal with all that shit. But trying to do that while raising a child, I had no right to put that shit on you. I knew that if I told you, you would have dropped everything for me. But the world needed a hero, and I couldn’t take that away. But, god did I wanna meet you.”

“You’re right. You had no right. No right to keep from me that I HAVE A DAUGHTER!!” he exclaims, his voice raising another octave. 

“I know, I know. Every time I had to call you Dean instead of ‘Dad’ it fucking broke me.” I pause, taking a breath to gain hoping to gain back the confidence I had lost. “Y’know, when I said that I was proud of my dad, I meant it. And I’ll mean it every time I say it for the rest of my life. Every little girl is proud of their dad. They want to say, ‘my dad is a cop, my dad is a firefighter.’ I wasn’t able to say that. But I was still so damn proud. Because I got to say, ‘my dad hunts evil and cuts its head off.’ And every time I heard a hunter say, ‘Dean Winchester is a monster’ it took every ounce of self control I had not to kick their ass into oblivion. No matter how many times you broke the world, I was always proud.” 

Dean was quiet. We sat there in silence for a few minutes, just staring at the car. After another minute, he finally speaks up.

“Y’know, in all my life, I have never had someone have such faith in me. Not even Sam when we were growing up. So, thank you for that.”

But what he did next surprised me the most. He pulled me in for the tightest bear hug.

I leaned into him and cried. He had accepted me as his blood. He pulled me in and rested his chin on my head, rubbing my back to calm me down. 

“Shh, shh, baby girl. It’s okay, it’s all gonna be okay,”  
A few moments later, I had finally calmed down, but still holding onto Dean. 

“It would be an absolute honor, Fox Singer, for you to call me Dad,” Dean announced, cradling my head. 

And that set me off again, but he was patient. I wiped my eyes and told him, “Y’know, uh, Dad, I’m not actually a Singer.” Dad gave me a weird look until I continued. “When I found out you were my father, I told Gramps and he fucked with the system until your name was on my birth certificate and my last name was Winchester. But I go by Singer in public to save trouble.”

He pulled me in even tighter and I swore that I felt him cry. My suspicions were confirmed when we pulled away from each other and I saw him wipe his eyes.

“C’mon kid, we gotta go tell Sammy and Bobby. They’ll be frickin’ elated,” Dad mutters, as he throws an arm around my shoulder and we walk back to the house.

Sam was sprawled across the couch, barely fitting, while Gramps sat his desk. When they finally noticed us with Dad’s arm around my shoulders, both men slowly broke out into grins, lighting up like halogen lamps.

“You told him, Fox?” Sam asks, being the first one to speak.

“Wait a minute,” Dad interrupts. “Sam knew before I did?”

“Well, to be fair, you have shitty observation skills. And he suspected it. I’m like a female Dean WInchester. How could he not notice? Our behavior, shared interests, love for pie and cars, sarcasm, ease with weapons, looking exactly alike.” I explain. “So yeah, I told him,” I add, looking at Sam. 

“Aww, you two are adorable,” Gramps pipes up, grinning like the chesire cat.

Dad frowns, giving Gramps a bitch-face while Sam and I laugh in the background.

“Sorry, Dad. Sam’s still got you beat at giving the bitch-face,” I announce while looking up at him. 

At this, Sam lights up. He stands up and walks over to me, enveloping Dad and I into a giant hug, not letting go for a few minutes until Gramps joins in. All four of us sit in silence, enjoying the comfort of family.

\-----

A few days later, I decided to divulge my other secret to my newfound family. 

Sam and Dad were sitting on the couch, watching an old Eastwood movie when I came downstairs holding two bags. Gramps was sitting at his desk as usual, reading up on lore. Walking behind the couch, I toss their bags at the respective men. 

“Merry Christmas,” I announce while flopping in between them.

“Fox,” Sam starts. “It’s July.”

“Well I guess I’m off by a few months,” I comment, engrossed in the movie. “C’mon open ‘em up.”

“Alright, alright. Chill, Mulder,” Sam replies, opening his bag.

He pulls out a big white t-shirt with a triangular LGBTQ flag with a slogan that says ‘My Niece Is Gay And I’m Damn Proud’ in black letters. At the same time, Dad pulled out a black t-shirt with the same slogan and flag, but in white lettering. 

They unfolded the shirts and stared at them until both of them got up and pulled me into a giant hug that left me breathless. 

“Does this mean you guys are cool with it?” I ask when they released their grip on me. 

“Yeah, hon, we are very cool with it,” Dad whispers, his chin resting on my shoulder.

We release from our embrace once we hear a click coming from Gramps’ side of the room. Turning around, we find him with a camera in hand grinning like a cat who got the cream.

“Ugh, Bobby. What are you doing?” Sam asks, uncertainty in his voice.

“Taking a picture of you three idjits. I don’t have none of the three of ya,” he answers, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Well, c’mon old man, get in on the love,” I reply, waving him over, tears of happiness rolling down my face.

Gramps got up and the four of us continued with the group hug until we heard a certain redhead enter the room. We separated, stepping a few feet away from each other. Like these huge scary hunters were afraid to be caught hugging.

“Hey, Scully. How are you doing” I say, smiling at her like an idiot.

She looks at the couch, seeing the t-shirts I had given the boys. 

“Mulder, you told them?” Dana asks, a grin slowly breaking out on her face, eyes lighting up like a halogen lamp.

“Yeah. I did,” I reply, scratching the back of my neck in nervousness, a trait I had picked up from Dad. “I hope you don’t mind, Scully.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Thank god you did because I have been wanting to do this for fucking weeks.”

And with that, she crossed the room in a few strides and smashed our lips together like she was a woman dying of thirst and I was a glass of water. 

This continued for a few seconds until we heard someone clear their throat. We turn towards the sound, finding out it was Dad. 

“So, uhm, would either of you like to explain what’s happening at this moment in time?”

“Well, Dad, Sam, this is my girlfriend Dana. We’ve been dating for two years,” I reply, holding onto Dana’s hand.

“Does this mean I have to give the ‘you-hurt-her-you-die speech?” Dad asks, but with a smile.

“Nah, man. You don’t ever gotta worry about me hurtin’ her,” Dana says, rubbing her thumb across my knuckles, smiling at me like I put up the sun every morning.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see both brothers smile, like they knew what it was like to be this in love with another human being.

“Well, c’mere kid. Welcome to the family,” Dad announces as he pulls Dana in for a bear hug. Soon enough, I had joined into the hug, then Sam and Gramps. We all just stood there, a new family formed by love and acceptance. 

I had the love of my life in my arms, and had just found my father. I had found my family that accepted me for who I was. My family might be a little broken, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.


End file.
